<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Asshole Chronicles by Guede</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209581">The Asshole Chronicles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guede/pseuds/Guede'>Guede</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ableism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Background Character Death, Canon Disabled Character, Erica Reyes Lives, F/M, Full Shift Werewolves, Guilt, Human Erica Reyes, Humor, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Miscommunication, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Sane Peter Hale, Time Skips, Unrequited Crush, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 06:40:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guede/pseuds/Guede</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica and Stiles meet in the hospital because of Erica’s epilepsy and Stiles’ mom’s illness, and as things turn out, Erica becomes Stiles’ best friend.</p><p>Stiles also ends up a werewolf and then the Hales find them and so does the Hales’ constant homicide-based drama, and basically, they have to get through a <i>lot</i> of assholes just to make it to college.  A lot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erica Reyes/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Erica Reyes, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>447</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asshole number one is really asshole number twelve for Erica, who’s old enough to understand <i>why</i> the doctors don’t want her getting on a bike or going to Alyssa’s blowout party at the pool or any of that stuff, at least not till they figure out her medication, but who’s still young enough to think that they could stop sounding so sure that that’s <i>good</i> for her.  He’s probably not Stiles’ first either, but up till Stiles’ mom started to show up at the hospital, Stiles didn’t really keep track of those things, what with his dad being on the police force and all.</p><p>“Not that I’m gonna <i>abuse</i> that or anything,” Stiles mutters, hunching over his Styrofoam cup of water, still breathless from his hundred-meter dash down the corridor to Erica’s room.  “But look, it is a point of law that minors aren’t supposed to be unaccompanied in the neurology ward just as much as it is that visiting hours are over, and since my dad <i>isn’t</i> here yet, I think separating me from my other legally-appointed guardian’s a big mistake.”</p><p>“Your mom’s not a legally-appointed guardian,” Erica says, bemused.  At this point they haven’t even exchanged names, but hey, anything to distract her from yet another well-meaning nurse with a stupid lollipop.  “She’s just born your guardian.”</p><p>Stiles flicks an annoyed look up at her from the floor.  “Well, actually—” he starts, sounding all professor-like, this boy huddled up in the tiny space between the lone chair and the doorway.</p><p>Just then, heavy, purposeful footsteps turn into the corridor and Stiles flinches.  His eyes dart to under Erica’s bed, and then to the spot behind the EKG machine.  He shoves his cup under the chair and puts one hand out, then winces back into his crouch as the steps stop.</p><p>“Are you attached to that thing?” he hisses at Erica.</p><p>He seems to mean the EKG machine.  Erica shakes her head, though she doesn’t think there’s enough space, and for a second she thinks Stiles is going to dive for it anyway.  So does Stiles, from the way he shifts his weight, but then he looks at her again and his shoulders slump.</p><p>“You’re sick, right?” he says.</p><p>Erica bites her tongue.  She <i>hates</i> that word, honestly.  But—yeah, she is.  She’s sick, and she’s not going to get better, just…just <i>controlled</i>, and what she hates even more is all that careful tip-toe talk about how she can still have a ‘fulfilling’ life.  She can’t go to Alyssa’s party and she already knows that was just a pity-invite anyway, and you know what?  Yeah, she’s sick.</p><p>“Yeah,” she says.</p><p>Stiles presses his lips together, then sighs and pushes himself back against the wall.  He doesn’t look like he’s going to get up, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to do anything else as the nurse crosses into Erica’s room’s window.  “Okay,” he mutters.  He swipes his hand over his eyes.  “Sorry about coming in here, I’m not—not trying to get anyone in trouble or anything, I just…”</p><p>“What’s wrong with your mom?” Erica asks.</p><p>“‘Wrong’?” Stiles says, sharp, just like how Erica feels about the word ‘sick.’  </p><p>He’s too loud.  The nurse’s head goes up and then he zeroes in on Erica’s room.  “Stilinski?” the man bellows, yanking the door open.</p><p>“Ahhhh!” Erica screams, grabbing handfuls of her gown and sheets and throwing them into the air.  “I don’t have underwear on!  I’m underage!”</p><p>Over the clouds of fabric floating in the air, she sees the nurse’s shocked eyes fall back through the door.  The thin walls—this obviously used to be a bigger ward that they subdivided with those plastic-coated metal slabs—rattle over the nurse’s stammered apologies.</p><p>“Well, go get a girl nurse!” Erica shouts.  “I want a girl nurse!”</p><p>The guy leaves.  Erica slouches back in her bed, feeling better for the first time since she checked in, and looks triumphantly at Stiles.  Who is staring at her—</p><p>Face flaming, she shoves her sheets down over her bare legs.  “You <i>don’t</i> have any panties,” Stiles says, eyes still round.  “Wow, they won’t even give you any?  Do you want me to go steal ‘em back?”</p><p>“What, no, I have them, they’re just over—”  And then Erica stops in the middle of pointing out her bag of clothes in the corner, because she’s just realized she has no idea who this boy is.  “Um.”</p><p>“Um,” Stiles echoes.  He glances at the now-empty hall, then back at Erica.  A tentative smile tugs at his mouth, then disappears as he fidgets in place.  “So.  Um, thanks for that…um.  So…”</p><p>“I’m Erica,” Erica blurts out.</p><p>“Uh.  Stiles.  I mean, my name,” Stiles says, though he’s grinning now.</p><p>So it’s asshole number one’s fault that they meet a full four months before middle school actually starts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I realize the apparent attitude of Erica's doctors doesn't reflect the current approach to epilepsy, but I'm going this way because one, the level of medical care in Beacon Hills doesn't seem to be that great unless you're Melissa McCall, and two, it doesn't seem like Erica ever had a lot of social support with dealing with her epilepsy, given how she first appears in the show (which yeah, blatant attempt to explain her motivation for accepting Derek's offer, but also, kind of a terrible take on a disabled character).  </p><p>Anyway, please don't take this story as providing any sort of advice whatsoever about how to live with epilepsy, and instead consult proper medical authorities.  I am trying to do what I think is a less unintentionally-stereotype-reinforcing take on epilepsy, but still not being PubMed here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asshole number four is Scott’s dad, who decides to take a new posting in SoCal and takes Scott with him for the summer, leveraging his better salary against Scott’s mom’s shift schedule when he’s the whole reason they moved away from Scott’s mom’s extended family in the first place.  Scott’s mom has to give in for tactical reasons, because she’s hoping cooperation will play well enough with the judge that she can get Scott for the full school year once Scott’s dad inevitably messes up.  It’s Machiavellian enough that Stiles can’t find fault in it, except, you know, losing his best friend.  Unfortunately, Scott isn’t on board with his voluntary kidnapping plan.</p>
<p>“Well, his dad’s in the FBI,” Erica points out.  “He’d probably find you.”</p>
<p>Ever since they permanently hospitalized Stiles’ mom, he and she have been hanging out in the wooded no man’s land behind the hospital.  Erica has to come in every other week for some experimental therapy that she doesn’t want to explain to Stiles, even though he’s got enough PubMed cites to equip <i>her</i> against asshole number three, the nurse who keeps insisting that everything Erica goes through is all normal side-effects, and Stiles is supposed to be sitting with his mom the whole day but he just.   He can’t.  And now he can’t even run down to Scott’s mom’s nurse’s station since Scott’s not there and Scott’s mom just looks so depressed all the time.</p>
<p>“His dad couldn’t beat Encyclopedia Brown in a game of Mafia,” Stiles points out.</p>
<p>“<i>I</i> could beat Encyclopedia Brown in a game of Mafia,” Erica says, and then hiccups a little.</p>
<p>Stiles glances over and Erica tucks her head between her shoulders, with just her scowl showing past the bulky tops she wears.  He slows down anyway; he’s already used to doing it for Scott, and even if Erica’s health issues aren’t in her lungs, her parents keep her so wrapped up in tissue paper that she huffs and puffs just like him.  “I think you’re selling yourself kind of short.  You <i>wrecked</i> everybody on last week’s raid.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, like you keep saying, we gotta find ourselves a better caliber of idiots for our guild,” Erica says as they crest the hill that marks the end of the hospital parking lot and the beginning of the preserve.  She pulls up her collar, like she’s cold, and Stiles acts like he doesn’t hear her wheezing into her top.  “Speaking of, you manage to dig up anything on the big quest release yet?”</p>
<p>“I thought you were looking into that,” Stiles says.</p>
<p>Erica hunches more, then twists around.  “Well, my computer wasn’t working,” she says shortly.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, blinking.  She can be so touchy, more so than Scott ever was, and sometimes he wonders if they weren’t the only two their age in that wing of the hospital whether he’d want to hang out with her.  “I’ll put it on my to-do list.”</p>
<p>She stares at him and for a second he think she’s even more annoyed now, even though that doesn’t make any sense.  But then it all goes brittle and her eyes even get moist, and he’s so horrified by the idea that a girl’s going to cry on him that he doesn’t do anything when she suddenly slips and flops down onto the ground.</p>
<p>Erica’s up a second later, making gagging noises at the big patch of mud on her hip.  “It, um, it rained this morning, you know?” Stiles says.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah,” she snaps at him, and then her shoulders go down again.  She swipes at the mud, then turns and looks at the hospital as if she wishes she could will it to go away.</p>
<p>Stiles knows the feeling, even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going through her head.  She still looks a little teary and he doesn’t want that because he doesn’t know what to do with it, and so he fumbles in his pockets for a distraction.  Comes up with a half-used packet of tissues, which he hands to her.</p>
<p>“You have, like, two,” Erica says, nose wrinkling, as she pulls out the flimsy things.  They can both see those won’t do any good against the size stain she’s got.  “That’s not going to be enough.  My mom’s going to kill me.  She’s gonna think I fell because of another fit and chain me to the bed.”</p>
<p>“Coincidentally, I was just looking up lockpicking kits on Amazon,” Stiles says.</p>
<p>Erica frowns at him.  “Your parents let you log onto Amazon by yourself?”</p>
<p>“Well, we ended up with no toilet paper at three in the morning last week and with Prime shipping there’s really no excuse for that now,” Stiles says with a shrug.  He doesn’t say that his mom had always been the one to keep tabs on that sort of thing, and while his dad takes all the notes Stiles leaves, even the ones that Stiles calls into the station, it just isn’t working.  Or that his dad had walked in on him loading up the cart and hadn’t said anything, had just drawn a long, heavy breath, and then left him to it.  Though his dad had been the one to fire up the microwave that night.  “Hey, I know, I’ll get muddy too.  Then you can just tell your mom I’m a klutz and tripped us both.”</p>
<p>“I think your alibis need work,” Erica says after a moment, though she’s starting to smile.  She gives her pants another absent rub, then hops over the hill-top and starts down the other side.</p>
<p>“You’re the one who said I was overelaborating,” Stiles tells her, following.  “Also, where are you going?  Plenty of mud right here.”</p>
<p>“Come on, scaredy-cat,” Erica says, because she’s the only person who ever says that to him.</p>
<p>He frowns but lets her lead them further into the preserve.  This isn’t the pretty, jogger-friendly part, though there is a semi-overgrown “meditation path” that some past hospital administration had tried to make happen.  They aren’t going on that, but into the scrubby brush that can’t really decide whether it wants to be forest or not.  The real woods don’t start for a good half-mile, and there’s no way they can get there and back before someone realizes they’re out of hospital boundaries.</p>
<p>“I heard one of the orderlies saying he thought he saw a wolf running over here when he was driving home,” Erica finally says, after the twenty-second time Stiles asks her.</p>
<p>Stiles promptly stops, because he <i>likes</i> science class and their local ecology unit had been one of the last units of the school year.  “I don’t have mace!”</p>
<p>Erica turns around.  “What?”</p>
<p>“Mace!  You know, in case we’re attacked!” Stiles says.  “I mean, what, you <i>want</i> to get attacked?”</p>
<p>“No, but it’s daytime anyway, they’re not gonna be over,” Erica says, turning around.  “I just want to see if there are pawprints or something like th—”  </p>
<p>Her foot slides in the muddy ground and her arms go up.  Stiles tries this time to catch her, and he does get her arm, but their combined weights throw him off and then he ends up with dirt smeared down his whole shin.  He groans—no way he can convince his dad he never left his mom’s room—and puts his hand down to wipe it off, and then pauses.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Erica says, seeing the same thing.  “Hey, wait, it’s…is it supposed to be that color?”</p>
<p>Stiles thinks maybe he skinned himself, and that’s where the blood is coming from, so he scrambles up to his feet and then bends back over to pull up his jeans.  Erica gets up with him and stays up, and then she goes stiff next to him.  He starts to look up and she yanks him the rest of the way, making frantic noises.  “Oh, God, are you having a—” he starts.</p>
<p>“Look!” she says, jabbing her finger.</p>
<p>He turns.  They both look at the bleeding, shivering naked body tumbled into a ditch not three feet from them.  “Oh, my God,” he says.  “Oh, no, are they de—”</p>
<p>“They’re not dead, they’re moving,” Erica says.  “We gotta get hel—”</p>
<p>Which is when this asshole lunges up at them.  It’s <i>not</i> a person, it’s some kind of roaring half-hairy half-naked thing and it very clearly wants to kill them.  </p>
<p>Erica screams and Stiles would scream, except it gets stuck in his throat.  He does manage to turn and shove Erica hard, because they need to run.  She stumbles, then twists around, and for all that she isn’t allowed out much, she can really go when she wants to.</p>
<p>Stiles does his best, but he <i>is</i> clumsy and he trips.  He’s on the other side of the hill and at first he grabs for his head and just hopes he’ll roll and he <i>does</i> roll, and for a second he thinks he’s gonna—and then an incredibly intense pain rakes down the back of his leg.  That scream he’d been trying to make?  It unsticks itself at that point, and he is so, so sure he’s going to die.</p>
<p>He doesn’t, but that’s because Erica stops and turns and then throws stones at the asshole till it detours from ripping out Stiles’ throat and looms up and gets shot in the head by some other asshole wandering around in the woods.  And they know she’s an asshole because when Erica comes back to try and get Stiles up, the asshole comes up and looks at Stiles’ leg and goes, “You were <i>bit</i>” and points her gun at Stiles.</p>
<p>Erica shrieks and throws another rock and the bullet goes wide.  Stiles grabs onto Erica and Erica onto Stiles and they heave themselves another couple feet and the asshole with the gun comes after them, telling them sorry but it’s honestly for their own good, and thank everything but now they’re in the hospital <i>parking lot</i> and what kind of asshole shoots kids in a hospital parking lot?  </p>
<p>Anyway, Stiles’ dad happens to just be pulling into the lot, and he sees what’s going down.  He doesn’t even put the car into park before he’s out of it with his gun, shouting at the asshole lady to stop there and drop her weapons, and Stiles thinks it’s going to be fine.</p>
<p>Then the asshole lady shoots his dad.  His dad’s partner shoots her right after that, but it’s still not fine.</p>
<p>It’s not fine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Erica and Stiles are also online-bonding in that MMORPG Stiles mentions in the show.</p>
<p>I have no idea why the show seems to think epilepsy also means you're physically weak, since it's in your brain, not your muscles or your lungs.  Anyway, Erica looks like she could be a runner even before she gets wolfed-up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Stiles’ dad gets shot by a psychopathic woman named Kate Argent, they lose count of assholes for a little while.  The thing is, they just pile up really fast: the assholes who try to convince Stiles and Erica they didn’t really see what they saw, the asshole who shows up and tries to convince everyone Kate didn’t really shoot who the bullet slugs say she shot, the assholes who want to put Stiles in the psychiatric ward until they can locate a proper relative because that’s totally how to deal with somebody whose dad <i>got shot</i> right in front of him.</p><p>Scott’s mom does put her foot down on that last one, but she can’t take Stiles home either, so the best she can do is get him checked into the hospital as a non-psychiatric patient for a couple nights.  Erica’s mom, on the other hand, wants to check her out and take her home where it’s ‘safe’ and Erica just can’t take it anymore.</p><p>“You can’t just keep me locked up all the time!  I’m gonna die early anyway and this way you’re just making sure I’ll be <i>glad</i> when I die!” she screams at her mom.</p><p>Her mom gasps and even as traumatized and worried and just plain pissed-off as Erica is, she feels a little guilty.  Yeah, her mom tries to protect her from everything.  It’s better than Scott’s parents who are playing human chess or Stiles’ parents who were both weirdly hands-off even before they separately ended up hospitalized, but it’s still just—just such an <i>asshole</i> thing to do when life already sucks.  And she can’t—she can’t just leave the hospital, not now, not when the last time she saw Stiles he was just crumpled up in one of the chairs in the waiting room with his dad’s phone in his hand and he wasn’t even <i>trying</i> to look up the surgery his dad’s going through.</p><p>“I’m not coming, and if you make me, I’ll hate you forever,” she says.</p><p>She wants it to sound strong and angry, but instead her voice cracks.  Her head hurts, right in the sinuses, like something’s trying to press into them, and that’s not one of her warning signs but it would be just great—she presses angrily at her nose, avoiding the hand her mother tries to put on her arm, but nothing happens.  Which figures.  The one time she actually could use a seizure.</p><p>“You want to stay with your friend, right?” her mom finally says, in a very small, sad voice.</p><p>Erica looks up, but her mom sounds serious.  Doesn’t look like she likes it, but for the first time in a long time, it’s like her mom is really seeing <i>her</i>, not whatever doctor is going on about her, or what’s going on at work, or some other thing that’s just making her mom’s life harder.  And…Erica swallows hard.  She thinks about it, and that moment where Stiles’ father’s head snapped back comes into her mind, and she feels sick and for a second she just wants to bury herself in her mom’s arms.  </p><p>But then she remembers Stiles had pushed her out of the way, and she squares her shoulders and nods.  “Yeah.  He doesn’t have anybody, Mom.  They don’t know if his dad’s going to pull through, and I mean, they don’t even know who those psychos are or how many of them there are.  He’s—he needs somebody.”</p><p>So Erica and Stiles get to bunk in the same hospital room, because Erica’s mom is a <i>scary</i> lawyer, and for a couple hours Stiles won’t really talk to her.  His dad’s going to be in surgery all night, but they’re not going to come tell them how that goes till the morning, Erica’s been in the hospital long enough to know that.  She finally manages to annoy Stiles into answering her by arguing about how he needs to just go to sleep or else he’s not gonna have the energy for talking a nurse into bringing them a status check, and in the middle of that, Stiles turns into a werewolf.  </p><p>And then back.  And then into a werewolf again.  And then back, while Erica goes from so terrified she can’t even move to breathe to dizzy to actually a little annoyed when her body snaps out of it and she gasps so hard she bangs her elbow against the bedrail.</p><p>“I think we both know this is really happening,” Erica says, the fourth time Stiles does it.</p><p>Stiles looks up at her from the floor.  “I’m doing this so you can <i>take notes</i>,” he says, irritated at <i>her</i>, not at the way she won’t leave him alone.  “We gotta figure this out, Erica.  This has to be the answer.”</p><p>Later, some asshole tells them this is totally not normal for first-time werewolves, and Erica just rolls her eyes.  “Yeah, well, he was already <i>Stiles</i>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My theory (when I bother trying to reconcile this with canon) is that Stiles immediately anchors himself with curiosity.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing is, Stiles’ dad dies before they get very far with figuring out werewolves and they have to start numbering assholes again with Chris Argent, who shows up to try and clean up his sister’s mess and decides to do that by questioning Stiles.  This is probably because Erica had a mild seizure, so she’s still in the hospital while Stiles is temporarily staying with Erica’s mom—who never was even that close to the Stilinskis, but she seems to be taking Erica’s guilt-trip to mean she needs to know more about what Erica cares about—and this means Chris is an idiot as well as an asshole, because Erica’s mom is, again, a lawyer.  When she finds Chris cornering Stiles behind the school, she marches his ass straight to jail.</p>
<p>Stiles lets Erica know, and Erica is over her seizure but is still stuck in observation, and since she’s still in observation, she sneaks out of her room and down to the morgue because Chris had said some weird things about getting hold of the body of the asshole ‘alpha’ who’d bitten Stiles.</p>
<p>So asshole number two is this woman who’s <i>already</i> in the morgue, also checking out the body.  Erica ducks behind the door but the woman’s already turned around and somehow Erica knows she’s just like the dead asshole.</p>
<p>She books it out of there and punches the elevator buttons, then, once she hears it going, she skitters over to the door to the stairs.  But she can hear the woman’s feral laughing behind her and she wants to break down and cry.  Her knees are wobbling and she feels an embarrassing clench between her legs and she’s going to piss herself, she just knows it, but—she’s gotta hold it, she tells herself.  They know werewolves have a crazy good sense of smell and this is only gonna work for a second but if she’s got a second she can get to a floor with other people and God, that woman already knows she’s a kid so the slow walk and evil laugh?  What an <i>asshole</i>.</p>
<p>That steadies Erica’s hands enough for her to get the door open, slip through, and close it quietly enough that the elevator’s rumbling should cover it up.  She keeps her running as quiet as she can for the first flight, but by the time she hits the landing, she just can’t and she goes for it.</p>
<p>The next flight up is the beginning of the long-term neurological ward.  It’s too quiet, Erica thinks as she gets halfway down the hall, but she doesn’t have time to change direction.  </p>
<p>And then it’s not quiet any more.  The woman’s figured it out and she can hear the thudding footsteps behind her, and she just—first door she sees.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” says the woman sitting in the bed facing her.  Hostile, an accusing finger pointing at Erica.  “Did Stiles send you?”</p>
<p>Erica stutters, and because she stutters, she gets slammed sideways by the door when the other woman flings it open.  She bangs into the wall, hits her head on something, and then promptly goes into a seizure.  It’s just by an inch that she doesn’t end up tangling herself so badly in the electrical cords in that corner that she strangles herself.</p>
<p>Anyway, she misses whatever goes down, and when she wakes up, her mother is crying.  Crying, and trying not to cry, and asking whether Erica can’t eat any garlic now.</p>
<p>“Um, no, that’s…that’s vampires,” says a very shaky Stiles.  “Also, not her, just…me.  And, um, Mom.  I guess.”</p>
<p>“Did she bite me?” Erica says, sitting bolt upright.</p>
<p>“Nope,” says Stiles’ mother.  She’s sitting on the edge of Erica’s bed, frowning at the laptop Stiles is holding up at her.  “Not that she didn’t try, and she didn’t have the excuse of a mental problem.”</p>
<p>Erica’s mom had rushed over to clutch at Erica, and now she pulls Erica against her.  She’s shaking, Erica can feel that, but she still moves so that she’s in front of Erica.  “Well, is that really fixed?  Because I heard all about it from the nurses, what you shouted at your own kid.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Stiles snaps, going white in the face.</p>
<p>Stiles’ mom winces, then pulls at his shoulder when he makes to get off the bed.  “Hey,” she says, quieter, and he stops and can’t quite look her in the eyes.  She winces again, and when he wordlessly turns and hugs her shoulder, she hesitates before very slowly putting her hand on his back.  Then she looks over at Erica’s mom.  “That’s fixed,” she says flatly.  She draws in a deep breath.  “And if anyone fucking comes after my son now, believe me, I’m going to fix <i>them</i> permanently.”</p>
<p>“Mom,” Erica says, because she knows where her mom’s going to go with this.  “Mom, listen, you can’t just—we can’t just pretend—this is happening.  It’s really happening, and—and they saw me already, and—”</p>
<p>Erica’s mom closes her eyes and it looks like it hurts her.  Then she opens them.  Takes her own deep breath, and then glances at Erica.  And sometimes Erica’s honestly kind of hated her mom, for caring so much that Erica just stays in one piece and not about whether that one piece has friends or is ever going to have a school nickname that doesn’t involve wetting herself, but right then, she realizes if she ever <i>wasn’t</i> in one piece…she doesn’t know what her mom would do.</p>
<p>“Erica, my heart,” her mother says, like she’s pulling her own ribs out.  “I just want you to grow up and be happy.  And if I have to press charges against every single person in this town to find out who doesn’t think the same way, I will.”</p>
<p>“Well, I think <i>that’s</i> a little hasty,” Stiles’ mom says, blinking when Erica and her mom pull out of their hug.  “I’m just saying, now that I’m in my right mind, let’s think about the details we have first and figure this out <i>without</i> turning the whole place into a witchhunt.  Wolfhunt.  Whatever.”</p>
<p>“Oh, my God, Mom, I’m <i>so</i> glad you’re back.  I mean, even if people are trying to kill us, at least they fixed that,” Stiles says, choking, and for a second Stiles’ mom looks wobbly.</p>
<p>Then she draws herself up and looks at Erica’s mom, who frowns and then leans back, and for some reason, Erica feels a lot better about all of this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So Ennis bit Stiles in this world, and Stiles got much of his Stiles-ness from Claudia.  Because much as I love me some Sheriff (as anyone who's poked around in my stories knows), I am trying to explore new themes here.  And once again, trying to find something besides fridging and cardboard villainy in TW's female characters.</p>
<p>If a werewolf bite can cure Erica's epilepsy, then I don't see why it wouldn't have the same effect on Claudia's frontotemporal dementia.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asshole three (post-werewolfing) is, many years later, Stiles’ boyfriend.  But right now, Peter Hale is not only a creepy old guy lurking around the high school, but he’s <i>also</i> messing with Stiles’ and Erica’s moms’ plans.</p><p>“You’re not even hiding that well!” Stiles says, throwing up his hands.  “I was on a toilet run in third period and I went by the teacher’s breakroom and they were totally drawing straws for who was gonna call your sister!  You’re being a stalker.”</p><p>“Yes, and?” Peter says, bored.</p><p>Also, doing that annoying werewolf thing with the subvocal intimidating growling.  Because he’s older and he’s already killed somebody, what with the blue eye-glow, and his family’s a bunch of born werewolves and all this other elitist stuff that doesn’t stop him from being a complete tool.  “And my mom <i>told</i> your mom that the Argents are still in town, okay?  They’re going to be till Chris Argent’s hearing and that’s not till next week and in the meantime we all need to lie low because <i>they’re</i> the people we want in jail for murder and you hanging around being a pedo in training does not help with that.”</p><p>Peter rolls his eyes, like he’s so cool with his leather coat and his trespassing on campus.  “Thank you, Stilinski, for the news flash.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have pressing family business—”</p><p>“Oh, my God, Derek’s gonna break up with her in a month tops, anyway,” Erica suddenly puts in.  “Just wait till he finds out that she <i>hates</i> Tarantino.  Like, so much that when they came into the hospital for music hour, she wouldn’t play till the TV got turned off.”</p><p>Stiles has no idea what Erica is talking about, but Peter apparently does, because suddenly he’s intently focused on her.  “What did you say?” he snarls, really snarls, with a careless shove at Stiles as he shoulders forward.</p><p>Or tries to.  Stiles is not, even as a werewolf, gonna beat up somebody as old as Peter, but he can make like an obnoxious pole with lead feet and he does.  Peter grunts, hops back, and then cocks his head.  Then starts to smile like he’s going to enjoy this, and that’s when Erica shoots him with the taser.</p><p>“I thought Mom said not to bring that to school,” Stiles says, blinking.  “Because your mom looked up all those laws about concealed-carry.”</p><p>“Yeah, but we’re leaving school in a couple minutes, right?” Erica says.</p><p>Stiles thinks this over.  Then checks the time.  “Okay, let’s just roll him under that tree like he’s sleeping.  We can stick his coat under his head.”</p><p>Erica looks at him, and then puts the taser away and gets down on her knees.  She strips Peter’s coat off and wads it up, then stands up again.  “You roll him, I’ll handle the props,” she says.  Pauses.  “You’re the werewolf and I have <i>epilepsy</i>.”</p><p>“You are not even <i>close</i> to a seizure, we figured out I can tell, remember?” Stiles mutters, grabbing the still-twitching Peter by the shoulders.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stiles and Erica are in middle school, but I'm positing that (as in many small towns), the middle and high schools are next to each other and share the athletic fields.  Also, we know Paige is in orchestra and it's not unusual for school orchestras to go to local hospitals, etc. as part of community service, so that's how Erica knows her.</p><p>Peter has a well-established habit of underestimating those who he deems weaker, and Stiles is a baby werewolf (I am imagining him as getting turned before he got his puberty growth spurt) and Erica is an epileptic, and they both may not even come up to somewhat beanpole-ish young-adult Peter's armpits at this stage.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Assholes five through thirteen are members of the Argent family or people they’ve hired to try and wipe out all the werewolves in Beacon Hills for no particular reason besides not minding child murder, as far as Erica can tell.  Assholes fourteen through twenty are the werewolves who, instead of just <i>listening</i> to Erica’s mom about how <i>murder</i> actually gets <i>investigated</i> and ends in <i>arrests</i> and <i>civil wrongful-death suits</i>, want to make this some crazy slasher film, and who instead end up making Stiles’ mom kill a couple of them.</p>
<p>Talia Hale is not <i>exactly</i> an asshole, since she does listen to Erica’s mom and she doesn’t hold those dead assholes against Stiles’ mom, but she also, considering she’s allegedly the leader around here, decides that there’s too much of this going public.  So Stiles and his mom and Erica and her mom end up deciding to move away from town.  </p>
<p>“Well, there were a lot of assholes,” Erica points out.</p>
<p>She actually doesn’t mind so much.  It’s not like she was getting any more popular as the “Murder Girl” than she was as the “Wet Herself Girl,” and she’s been having more seizures lately.  Stiles being able to tell when she’s about to go into one means they can at least get into a bathroom or a closet or something, but…she’s still having them.  Her mom doesn’t want to say it, but having somebody jump out and try to murder you every other day probably is a factor.  It doesn’t help, at the very least, and it’s not like they can really explain all the details to Erica’s doctors.</p>
<p>Stiles, though, he’s quiet.  For him.  He tries to cover it up with gaming and waking her up in the middle of the night to show her new cool werewolf stuff and researching whether magical stuff for her epilepsy could be real too, seeing none of the alphas running around town are people Erica or her mom would trust with a fake plant, but he is.</p>
<p>“His father’s buried there,” Erica’s mom says one night, when Erica’s unloading on her about it.  “That can’t be easy.  I know Claudia thinks about that sometimes.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Erica says, feeling like an asshole.</p>
<p>So for the next week, she’s very, very nice to Stiles, right up till they’re sitting outside on a full moon night and she’s helping him pick twigs out of his hair, and he says, “So at what point did you realize that you wanted to be possessed by the devil?”</p>
<p>“What?” Erica says, right before he throws holy water at her.</p>
<p>Erica punches him.  He squeals and grabs his nose and crumples over, and then he lifts his head.  “Ow.  Oh, wow, ow.  I mean, I can feel the cartilage growing, but still.  Ow.”</p>
<p>“I’m not possessed!” Erica snaps.</p>
<p>“Well, I know that <i>now</i>,” Stiles snaps back.  “But why are you being so weird?”</p>
<p>“I’m not,” Erica says, and Stiles just sniffs.  Then skitters back when she lifts her fist.  “Oh, come on.”</p>
<p>Stiles makes a face.  “I am not into not feeling good, Erica, so you keep your right hook away from me.”</p>
<p>Erica rolls her eyes and thinks it’s all back to normal, and then Stiles bites his lip.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says.  “You know.  For making you leave with us.  I mean…I mean, if Kali hadn’t seen you in the morgue, we could’ve told them you didn’t know a thing about werewolves, and—”</p>
<p>“Oh, wow, you’re an idiot,” Erica says.</p>
<p>“I’m trying to make you feel better,” Stiles says after a second.</p>
<p>“I’m fine.  I’m—” Erica has to stop herself from yelling, and instead tries to be calm instead “—I’m fine, Stiles.  My mom’s fine and I’m fine, and you’re fine and so is your mom, and—and I just, I know about your dad.”</p>
<p>“Dad?” Stiles says, like that isn’t it at all, and Erica’s stomach drops.  But then he sits back.  He turns and looks out at the field behind the house for a long time, long enough that Erica gets uncomfortable and thinks they should just go inside, and then he sighs.  “I guess I just wish—I wish he’d gotten to know Mom turned out okay.  He woke up for a second, they said—was trying to say, if he didn’t make it, that she wasn’t well enough to take care of me…I don’t like knowing he died thinking she and I weren’t going to be okay.”</p>
<p>Erica bites her lip.  She wants to say something really meaningful, but instead she just nods.</p>
<p>“But, I don’t know, maybe I can find some way of spirit-talking that doesn’t also have poltergeist and possession side-effects, and I can tell him that,” Stiles says.  He hunches his shoulders for a second, then gets up.  “It sucks, but…yeah, at least Mom and me, we’re good.  I just feel bad for Scott’s mom.  We had to go too and she has no idea why and Scott’s stuck with his dad for this semester, and…but look, nothing for you to worry about.  I talked to Mom and she agrees, long as you want us to stay, we’ll stay.  You saved her life and we both owe you big time.”</p>
<p>But she wasn’t even thinking about that, and even if she was, that’s not what happened, Erica wants to say.  It’s really nice of Stiles to think that way, but it’s not really true, and the not-trueness of it is sticking in her throat and she is about to spit it out to just get rid of that feeling when he turns to her and something about how he looks at her, like he’d been quiet but the reason he’s talking again is at least a little her…and she realizes something.  So she shuts up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Neither Stiles' mom nor Stiles is an alpha at this point in time.  Stiles and Erica are still in middle school, but older than in the last chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asshole one hundred and seven is Derek Hale, because when he shows up at Erica’s current school during lunch period, he has the temerity to act as if she’s got nothing better to do than hop in a car with him and talk their way into Stiles’ mom’s office just because he says he’s got a message from his mom.</p><p>“Well, I have to point out that, objectively, the car is hot and so is he,” Stiles says when he meets Erica at the far end of the parking lot, where the football team’s training gear partially disguises the fact that a six-foot paralyzed werewolf asshole is lying at their feet.  “I think you got about fifty cool points right there, and tack on fifty more for every word he said to you.”</p><p>“I think I get a Daily Double for turning his statutory-rape-courting ass down,” Erica points out.  “Also, I didn’t call you to get a lecture on climbing the social ladder, I called you—”</p><p>Stiles rolls his eyes.  He’s already rolled up his sleeves.  “Yeah, yeah, werewolf thing,” he says, stooping down.  He gets one of Derek’s arms over his own, then hefts the other man up with a grunt.  “Jesus, if my testosterone levels weren’t cringing in jealousy, I’d be wondering if I too can sprout biceps like this just by swallowing a bag of concrete…so where’d you put his car?”</p><p>The shot Erica had stabbed Derek with wears off several minutes later, when he and Stiles are still in the backseat of his car that Erica is driving over to Erica’s house, because if she’s going to cut class she’s definitely going to do it on home territory.  “I’m <i>trying</i> to warn you people,” Derek snaps.  “Mom’s calling an alpha meet so we can figure out what to do about Kali.  We could’ve just let her show up and dump your mom’s head on your front step.”</p><p>“You also could’ve sent an anonymous letter, or even just given her a call.  She’s PR for the local university, it’s not like she’s hard to find,” Stiles points out.</p><p>“I meant <i>her</i> mom,” Derek says, hooking his chin towards Erica.</p><p>Erica and her mom both have concealed-carry permits and premium memberships at the local gun range, panic button apps on their phones, and a check-in rule that means she knows her mom was totally fine as of an hour ago, and she <i>still</i> ends up sucking her breath to keep from wrenching the car around and driving the other way to her mom’s office.  Cold sweat breaks out on her palms, making the wheel slip through her fingers, and when she curses and twists it back, her vision blurs and for a second she thinks she might be having a fit.</p><p>And then somebody kicks the back of her seat.  She jumps, then curses again as the car drifts towards the other lane and gets honked at.  Erica hurriedly straightens it out and then, thankfully, sees the last turn for her house.</p><p>“Should she be driving?” Derek is saying.  “Do you even have your learner permits yet, either of you?”</p><p>“Well, if we get arrested, I think it’s only a hundred-fifty for not using your turn signal while it’s a federal felony if you kidnap somebody across state lines, so why don’t we stick with the one we can pay for online if we have to?” Stiles says, rearranging himself in the backseat.  His hand briefly pokes past Erica’s headrest and touches her shoulder, then goes away when she breathes out.  “Speaking of, I should probably ask, are you in a position to have a credit-card record, or are you cash-only?”</p><p>“What?” Derek asks.  “Listen, I come and do you a favor and you think I’m going to pay for your—your—what am I even paying for?”</p><p>“You’re not gonna pay for anything if it’s gonna trigger a police alert on us because you wolfed out on someone at the gas station at your last stop and then thought you’d just drive off and never mind the security cameras,” Erica says, pulling into her driveway.  “Also, my mom is <i>still</i> a lawyer, so maybe having her decapitated’s not the best way to get out of trouble?”</p><p>Derek frowns at her in the rearview mirror as if he’s surprised.  “I didn’t say I wanted her to end up that way.  We’re trying to <i>help</i> you, not get killed.”</p><p>“And you’re doing such a wonderful, wonderful job of that,” Stiles mutters.</p><p>When Erica glances over, he’s hunched down in his seat so that his head is well below the backseat windows.  He catches her eye, holds up his phone, and then jerks his head to the right.  Derek, about to say something, catches on and ducks down and grabs at the door handle on that side, while Stiles, who never stopped looking at Erica, rolls his eyes and then turns left.  Erica sighs and puts the car into park, then kills the engine.</p><p>Derek bursts out of the car on his side, snarling and swinging and immediately taking down the camo-kitted man who’d jumped out of the hydrangeas.  Stiles waits a second longer, then goes out the same side to pounce on the other hunter, while Erica watches the rearview mirror till she sees the SUV screeching around the corner.  Then she turns the engine back on and reverses the car right back into the SUV, neatly derailing the other part of the trap.</p><p>Though the whole thing leaves her with what’s shaping up to be a nasty case of whiplash when, two hours later, Stiles takes a break from gleefully note-taking Erica’s mom’s interrogation session of Derek to sit down next to her.  “How’s your neck?” he asks.</p><p>Erica glares at him.  She and her mom might not have werewolf hearing, but her mom’s just one room over and at this point she’s developed her own sixth sense for when Erica’s hiding a problem.  “I’m gonna take something for it, I just wanted to finish doing this.”</p><p>Stiles looks at the computer in front of Erica, then reaches for it.  “I can—”</p><p>“You gotta go sit on that asshole when he forgets Mom’s got a taser and goes at her anyway, like they always do,” Erica says, pulling it away.  “You’re the werewolf.  I have this, I just need to prop my head or something.”</p><p>“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles says, lifting his hands in the air.  </p><p>He’s still sitting next to Erica.  Which doesn’t mean anything, or at least not the things Erica is sort of stupid about no matter how much she tries, but she still tucks in her head.  Bad move, says her neck, and she winces.</p><p>“You’re gonna stare yourself into a seizure,” Stiles sighs, and before she can stop him, he reaches over and splays his hand across the laptop.  He taps things and moves the cursor, and then she realizes what he’s doing: enabling the ad-blocker so she doesn’t run into one that triggers her.  It’s his laptop, not hers, and she’d forgotten to switch it on.  “You weren’t, you know.”</p><p>“What?” Erica mutters, embarrassed.  She rubs at the side of her face.</p><p>“Gonna have one,” Stiles says, stretching his legs out.  “Well, not from epilepsy.  <i>Maybe</i> from a rage-induced aneurysm, but you know that’s just giving them the satisfaction, what with their inability to just communicate like anyone else who’s occasionally got genocidal murderers stalking them.”</p><p>In spite of herself, Erica snorts.  Stiles pulls himself up and cranes his head to look into her face, grinning, and then, before she can quite get a hold of that sudden flush in her cheeks, he grabs his laptop and starts tapping away.</p><p>“You think he’s telling the truth and Kali’s really not dead?” Erica says, once she feels like she can do it without resorting to magic to cover up her heartbeat.  “Because if that’s true, your mom’s gonna—”</p><p>Stiles’ jaw tightens.  He doesn’t stop typing.  “Yeah.”</p><p>He’s looking up plane tickets back to California.  “You’re gonna tell her,” Erica says, watching as he searches based on just one person.  “Stiles.  You can’t just <i>go</i>, whatever that asshole Derek says.  I mean, if you just—if she doesn’t know where you are, you know she’s gonna—”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Stiles mutters.</p><p>“And my mom’s not gonna cover you with the school <i>or</i> her, and—Stiles, she’s already going to flip just about Kali, and if she hears you and Kali are in the same town, she’s gonna—”</p><p>“Yeah, I <i>know</i>,” Stiles snaps, twisting around to glare at her.</p><p>He’s on edge enough that his eyes have turned blue, which means he’s distracted enough even his werewolf reflexes can’t stop her from grabbing back the laptop.  “And if we’re going to pull the whole service-animal thing, you need to book me into economy-plus <i>at least</i>,” Erica mutters, deliberately turning her shoulder to him and adjusting his search parameters.  “You make me fly halfway across the country so you and Kali can settle your vendetta, I’m not donating my legspace to you.”</p><p>Stiles doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just watches her type.  She finds something with the layover she wants, double-checks the cancellation policy, and then gets to the part where she needs to provide a credit card.  She’s about to get up and snake her mom’s purse when Stiles sighs and pulls a card out of his pocket.  </p><p>“What happened to your mom’s not gonna cover?” he asks.</p><p>“Well, she’s not gonna cover me either,” Erica says, typing C-L-A-U-D-I-A into the box for the cardholder’s name.  </p><p>Stiles stares at her for a little longer, then sighs.  He’s going, and he knows he can’t talk her out of going with him any more than she knows she can talk him out of sneaking away from his mom.  She doesn’t feel nearly as good about it as she’s trying to pretend she is.  Erica and her mom are in a pretty good place these day, with just the occasional crying fit about how her mom can’t stand it if Erica doesn’t come home from the hospital, and then usually they’ll go to the firing range right afterward.</p><p>Thing is, a big part of that’s because Erica hangs out all the time with Stiles and his mom, and they both can tell if she’s going to have a seizure.  They also both have made sure she’s been protected till the seizure is over, and that really has involved killing people, and so Erica can’t not go.  Not when she knows, if it’s really Kali, Stiles can’t keep himself out of it.  Not after what happened to his dad, and how his mom’s been ever since she found out about that.</p><p>“I guess if we’re both under the cutoff for adult offenders, they can’t nail <i>me</i> for kidnapping and transportation,” Stiles finally says.</p><p>She shouldn’t, but Erica smiles.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stiles and Erica are now in high school, and Stiles is comfortable with his sexuality because with a werewolf as a parent, I don't see how Claudia would not pick up something like that and let him talk himself out about it early on.  Stiles is also still small enough (as a full-shifted wolf) that he can fit into the legspace of an airplane seat and that's what Erica is referring to.</p><p>Derek did just randomly go to the high school and expect Scott and Stiles to help him out in season one, which I have never been able to rationalize except as involving some sort of entitlement.  But look, I am on repeated record as thinking Derek's more interesting as a jerk than as a tragic hero.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asshole one hundred and nine is Derek again, because asshole one hundred and eight is his uncle Peter, who completely ruins a perfectly good plan to drive back to California while Stiles’ and Erica’s mothers are both decoyed out to SEATAC for ten hours because he gets Derek’s car towed after double-parking it in front of a police station.</p><p>“Oh, so you <i>want</i> us all to be stuck in Cornfed, Idaho?” Erica snaps.</p><p>Peter smiles at her, looking like a very tolerant but tired adult and smelling like he would like nothing better but to wait till the middle of the night, spook her into leaving the last-minute converted gardening shed they booked on Airbnb, and then smile in exactly the same way as she seizes and falls and hits her head on the parking lot.  Which is why, when Erica shuts herself in the bathroom after listening to her mom’s two teary voicemails to “finish her math without you jackasses staring at me,” Stiles goes for a little walk and breaks into the car it turns out Peter has parked around the corner and promptly scours it of every herb, charm, and other suspicious item he finds.</p><p>“<i>Why</i> would you throw out the blowtorches?” Peter hisses as he and Stiles hunker down in a ditch, trying to hide from an inexplicable cloud of werewolf-stalking, wannabe smotherer moths.  “What did you think I was going to do?”</p><p>“Get rid of her and take me for bait for whatever the hell your messed-up family’s gonna do to take Kali down,” Stiles hisses back, fumbling for his phone.  The moths can’t hear them, obviously, but they’ve been really persistent across half a mile and several ditches and he thinks this one is only working because of the mud in it and the proximity to a sewer.  Still, the masking smell’s not going to last too long and all his proper tools are back in the Airbnb with Erica.  “What?  You gonna pretend that wasn’t it?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Peter grunts, annoyed enough that Stiles gives him a second look.  “But please do me the courtesy of explaining why you’d think I need a <i>blowtorch</i> for that.”</p><p>“Well, um,” Stiles starts, and then…honestly can’t come up with anything.  “Look, I don’t know how assholes like you think.  Why would you even need a blowtorch at all?”</p><p>Peter opens his mouth and then his eyes widen.  He ducks down as far as he can get in the ditch, which given how much he’d been grumbling about his expensive hand-tailored made-from-custom-grown-cotton shirt, seems like a genuine red flag and not just a ploy to catch Stiles off-guard.  Stiles squishes down too, but not as far because he still needs to be able to see his phone.</p><p>“Why on earth did you bring her anyway?” Peter mutters.  “She’s a liability.  You can smell the disease all over her.”</p><p>Stiles doesn’t answer, because he’s busy trying to text Erica, and Peter looks over.  A second later he lunges for Stiles, snarling something about the light, and the mud makes him slip.  Stiles swipes at him, snarling back, but then a moth flies right in his mouth.</p><p>Tastes gross, and is swiftly followed by more, no matter how he shakes his head.  He abandons Peter to slither along the ditch, trying to claw them off his face, but they’re just coming out of nowhere, thicker and thicker.  If he tries to get his head down so they can’t get into his face, he’s in the mud, but if he crawls out of the ditch—he twists around, heading for the sewer, with some vague idea that he can drop into it and use the sewage against the moths.  It’s not a great idea, but he’s suffocating. </p><p>He runs into something.  At first he thinks it’s Peter because it writhes away from him, but then his hand goes <i>through</i> it, like sticking it into one of those ball-pits that used to be at McDonald’s.  Then he feels the flutter all up and down his arm and realizes his mistake.</p><p>Stiles tries to throw himself out of the ditch but it’s too late: the moths are on him and not only can he not breathe, but it’s so <i>hot</i> with them all on him, he thinks if it wasn’t for the lack of air, he’d be steaming, and—and—his mom is going to kill him and he promised her he wasn’t going to leave her alone after Dad and Erica’s mom is going to kill him and he promised <i>her</i> he’d make sure Erica always had help and—</p><p>It is <i>scorching</i>, literally.  His back is burning and he rolls over, spits out a mouthful of moths, and gasps for air.  The air is filled with the smell of cooked flesh but at least he’s got air.</p><p>“Shit,” Erica says, frantically shaking the can in her hand.  Then she tosses it at a singed, rapidly reforming ball of moths, ducks down, and comes up with another one, which she promptly converts to a flamethrower with the help of a cigarette lighter.  “Hey, are you helping or not?”</p><p>That’s to Derek, who is a lot slower than her with the whole hair-spray-lighter action, but who finally gets his up and helps clear the moths off Peter.  “Don’t they tell you not to do this because these things can blow up?” he half-shouts over the surprisingly loud sound of hundreds of crisping moths.</p><p>“Oh, my God, you heal,” Erica says.  She gives Stiles a last sweep with the flames, then throws away that can too and drops down next to him.  “You okay?” she says.</p><p>“Yeah.  Yeah, more—more or less,” Stiles says, still breathless.  He pushes himself onto his elbow, grimacing as his skin tries to knit around charred bits of clothing.  “Y’know, aside from the whole <i>let’s kill you and kidnap me</i> thing.”</p><p>Peter at least looks like he’s seriously reconsidering that.  “Well, admittedly, she’s creative,” he grunts, swiping moths off his throat.  He pauses, an odd strained look on his face, and then turns and spits up chewed-up wings.  “Anyway, if the darach can command animals this far out, we’ve lost the element of surprise and I suppose having her along doesn’t matter so much.  I had a feeling they’d follow Derek.”</p><p>“Wait a second, what?” Derek snaps.  “I thought you showed up because you all thought I wasn’t going to bring them back!”</p><p>“That too,” Peter says unrepentantly.  He pushes himself up on his knee.  “I think we should reconvene on this, preferably within a protective circle.  Where’s the car?”</p><p>“Car?” Derek says, while Erica, face contorting in outrage, demands to know why the hell he had to steal Derek’s if he had his own.</p><p>Peter pauses.  “You drove over, didn’t you?  How else did you get here?”</p><p>Derek drops back a little.  He’s starting to look as if he’s having an epiphany, and it might involve being afraid of Peter.  “She found some stuff from your car and did something with it and her phone and we ran over.  It was just half a mile, I can carry her and still go faster than—”</p><p>“Did you lock it,” Peter says, starting to look as if his epiphany involves the epic lack of coordination between him and Derek, and how sometimes, proofing against the deadweight means you actually need to take it into account.  He coughs up some moths, then points to Stiles.  “He didn’t, the moths showed up—”</p><p>“Also, you were trying to knock me out and I was trying to kick you in your smug kidnapping face,” Stiles says.</p><p>“She said you were in trouble!” Derek says to Peter, throwing his hands up.  “Besides this wouldn’t be happening if you had fucking just let me go and get them—”</p><p>“Look, I’m gonna get Stiles fixed up, and also, go see if the car’s still there,” Erica says, having gotten Stiles’ arm over her shoulders.  “You two can come if you want.”</p><p>Stiles still has enough insect bits scratching up his throat that he probably shouldn’t, but he starts to snicker.  Erica rolls her eyes and drags him off, while Peter and Derek go all of two seconds before they begin bickering again. </p><p>“’m fine,” Stiles says.  They’re not exactly out of earshot, but the other two seem distracted enough.  “Not gonna land you with explaining this to Mom, told you.”</p><p>“Sure, because I already told you a zillion times I’m not going to,” Erica says, voice strong as if he can’t smell the tears welling up in her eyes.  She pauses as he gets his footing, but keeps such a tight grip on his wrist that he figures he might as well let her; he can walk for himself but he’s not going to lie, he’s still feeling shaky.  Suffocation’s not something werewolf healing can handle and—and there’s not a lot he doesn’t think he can handle.  “Stiles.  You think…”</p><p>This isn’t what he was thinking it was going to be, she’s thinking, and she’s right.  And Stiles hates himself a little bit, but the thought does come into his head that this isn’t fair.  Erica’s just been following his lead and if he can’t get a handle on this, she’s going to be stuck in Idaho with—with Peter and Derek Hale, of all people, and both of their moms are hundreds of miles away and God knows who or what is actually after them.  </p><p>His mom told him once that, before Kali had crashed into her room, she’d been yanking herself out of the bed to go defend herself against the assassin she’d thought Erica was.  </p><p>“I can’t believe I almost,” she’d said, and then stopped for a very long time.  And when she’d finally started again, she had had the same look in her eyes as she’d had at his dad’s funeral.  “When you get that far into a hole and then put your head up and realize how much hurt you’ve caused without knowing what you were doing…if we’re getting anything out of all of this, kiddo, it’s that we’re not going to do that again.  You with me?”</p><p>All the way, Stiles thinks.  All the way, and he takes a breath and he’s going to say, <i>we gotta wait for our moms</i>, when Derek has to storm up behind them.</p><p>“Well, fine, we’ll get another fucking car,” he says, mostly to Peter who’s grumpily tailing him.  “It’s not the end of the world, Peter, and also, you lost <i>my</i> car.”</p><p>As he spits out that classic rejoinder, Derek twists around and pitches his emptied can of hairspray, which he’s still got, at a nearby trashcan.  He’s a werewolf, so he nails it, but he nails it so hard that the can rocks wildly around, tips, and smashes into the end of a car parked in that driveway.  The car’s horn and lights immediately go crazy.  A light goes on in the house and somebody tells somebody else to go see if it’s a carjacking.</p><p>So they have to run away, and then double back to the Airbnb, and by then Derek and Peter have convinced Stiles and Erica that at the least, they need to get to Beacon Hills just to keep these idiots from making things worse.  It’s going to take longer to fly here than to get on an earlier flight to the Sacramento airport, Stiles figures.  At least there he can talk Scott—who’s moved back with his mom and who kinda knows about the whole werewolf situation—into putting him and Erica up till he can get hold of his mom.  They need to fix this, but unlike <i>some</i> assholes, Stiles isn’t prepared to do that at any cost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bees actually do defend themselves by throwing lots of hive members at an intruder to make them overheat, because when you can beat wings fast enough to fly, you can beat wings fast enough to generate an awful lot of heat energy.</p><p>Don't actually use hairspray, etc. as a flamethrower.  In real life it's far too likely for the flame to travel backwards into the can and explode a bunch of metal shrapnel into your hand.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asshole one hundred nineteen is Julia Baccari, for being so pissed off somebody took out her alpha before she could that she decided to reunite everybody responsible for Kali’s death in Beacon Hills for some kind of bizarro do-over involving ritual killings and powering up as a darach and generally just really self-centered bullshit.  Also, because by the time they get done with her, they’ve been in town so long that Erica and Stiles have to enroll in the local high school for senior year.  Sort of.</p><p>“You’re only still here because you think rolling into college as a sophomore on top of all your AP credits is gonna boost your cool rating,” Erica accuses.</p><p>“I’m sure Stiles doesn’t think that that’s the most important part of going to college,” Scott says, shooting alarmed glances between the two of them.</p><p>Erica has to literally will herself to stare at her phone so her eye doesn’t twitch.  She’s always known that Stiles and Scott kept in touch, and hey, she’s got a couple Snap streaks going with Scott, she’ll own that—his meme game got exponentially better after he scored the part-time job at the vet’s and she is a sucker for a doggie face—but his sheer <i>concern</i> about everybody was a lot less annoying when it was just digital.</p><p>Stiles, being Stiles, blithely slurps his way through a milkshake as he squints down the length of the crossbow bolt he’s holding.  “You’re just pissed off that you have to retake AP Bio because you wouldn’t let me help you with the Genetics module.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Erica says, even though she can feel her shoulders hunching.  She’s actually good at math except for stupid probability.  “Anyway, look, if the plan’s to convince Harris that we’re not actually up to no good just because he keeps catching us poking in his desk, maybe you should stop showing him up in class?”</p><p>“She’s kind of got a point,” Scott says, lifting his hand and hovering it near the bolt’s business end like at some point he didn’t also end up a werewolf—clearly, the Hales didn’t learn anything from Stiles and Erica tasing Peter all those years back—and can’t just snatch it out of Stiles’ hand.  “He’s getting pretty pissed off at you.”</p><p>“It’s called a diversion.  Which we all talked about,” Stiles says, more irritated than usual.  He jerks the bolt away from Scott, but at least he does put it down where nobody else on the athletic field behind the school will see.  “Speaking of which.”</p><p>“Oh…oh, hey!” Scott says cheerfully, as Stiles belatedly winces and Erica rolls her eyes.  He turns a little and waves at the three figures just walking onto the field from the parking lot, as if they’re <i>not</i> having a highly sensitive conversation about why Chris Argent and his family have not only moved back into town but actually appear to be on speaking terms with Talia Hale.  “Are you looking for Finstock?”</p><p>Jackson calls back no, he’s looking for Scott, since as <i>co</i>-captains, he fully expects that when he calls a team-bonding event, Scott’s going to be right there supporting him.  Scott looks blank, then gets up and comes down the bleachers, uber-nice guy that he is, and apologetically explains that he thought Jackson was just throwing a party and he’d stayed home to cook dinner since his mom was on the graveyard shift that night.  </p><p>“Stiles, you gotta explain diversions to him sometime,” Erica says, as the second Scott’s engaged, Lydia and Allison promptly flank him and Jackson and arrow in for her and Stiles.</p><p>“I <i>have</i>,” Stiles sighs.  He hangs back for a second and his eyes flick from side-to-side, and she can totally hear his mind running through how high the bleachers are and Allison’s known gymnastic capability and how much blocking factor Jackson has if Stiles just throws him in the way.  But then he frowns and looks down at her hand where she’s stuffed it into her bag.  “What are you—your mom specifically said no more taser calls this week.”</p><p>Erica frowns back, because <i>Allison Argent</i>.  “So you <i>wanna</i> deal with her?”</p><p>Stiles presses his lips together.  “No, but…”</p><p>And that’s when Erica notices how stammer-y and head-ducky and awkward-arm-lifting-to-flash-biceps that Scott is being as he turns to say something to Allison.  She’s facing them so they get a good, long look at how she bites her lip and looks upset about something and then slaps on that happy face and goes right on to flirt with Scott.</p><p>“You didn’t—”</p><p>“Mom’s doing something, so don’t,” Stiles mutters.  He jerks his feet up to rest them on the next bleacher down and cages in his phone with his elbows.  “We’re at school anyway, no murder zone.”</p><p>“He <i>knows</i> what happened with your dad,” Erica says, disbelieving.</p><p>Stiles’ shoulders creep closer to his ears.  He makes an annoyed werewolf noise, too rumbly to be plain human, and then twitches when Scott glances over at them, clearly uneasy.  “Can you just <i>stop</i>?” he hisses.  “I don’t want to deal with you too.”</p><p>She wasn’t even—she didn’t even fucking know this was a thing, Erica wants to tell him.  She’s just trying to figure out how and why they’re suddenly just…just allowing this, and what meeting she missed, and why he wouldn’t fill her in, and over there nice ol’ Scott’s just chatting away with Allison and suddenly Erica’s the bitch here?  </p><p>At the same time, look, Erica gets it.  She was there too, she watched the doctors squat over Stiles’ dad’s body in the parking lot.  She didn’t know him that well, but it was still pretty horrifying and…</p><p>“So sorry, am I interrupting your meeting of Rejects Anonymous?” Lydia says.  She’s come to a stop two bleachers down, which puts her head level with Erica’s knee, and yet she’s still tapping her heels as if they’re kowtowing in front of her.  “We need to talk.”</p><p>She just wants to make this go away, for both of them, Erica thinks.  “Nope.”</p><p>Lydia stops, mouth half-open.  Clearly, nobody’s ever tried this before.  “Excuse me?  Did you or did you not <i>completely</i> wreck all the decorations for Homecoming?  That wild-dog excuse might have worked on the principal but anyone with half a brain would’ve realized a dog couldn’t unlock those cabinets by themselves.”</p><p>Erica rolls her eyes and just stoops and hooks her arm through Stiles’ arm.  For a second she thinks he’s going to shove her off and a cold feeling goes through her gut, but then he sighs and snags his bag and gets up.  He turns as he does, so she can’t keep hold of him, but at least he seems to get that non-engagement is the tactic to go with here.  And if Scott wants to explore Allison’s thoughts on lacrosse-team travel arrangements so bad, he can do that without them hanging around.</p><p>“Are you honestly going to just walk away from me?” Lydia finally demands.</p><p>She makes a move towards them and Erica switches to Stiles’ other side, mouthing ‘yeah’ as she does.  Stiles catches it and slowly, finally, gives her one of his usual grins, and Erica thinks they’re home free.  </p><p>“Fine, then, I’ll just take the broken claws I found in that room to the Hales and see whether they’re interested,” Lydia says.  Pauses.  “By the way, they’re clearly not werewolf claws.  Too long and thin.”</p><p>Scott’s head whips around.  Then he jerks back to look at Allison, and to his credit, he looks betrayed.  “I thought your dad said there wasn’t anything unusual,” he says sharply.</p><p>“I was getting to that,” Allison says, alternating between squeezing his crossed forearms—he’s not pushing her off—and darting angry looks at Lydia.  “It’s complicated, and—we <i>are</i> here under the new Code, so please, just hear me out—”</p><p>“Oh, they don’t have any idea anyway.  <i>I’m</i> the one who found those claws, and I just happen to have located the bestiary that seems to describe what they belong to,” Lydia says dismissively.  She deliberately turns her shoulder on Allison’s outraged glare and directs a smug, satisfied look at Stiles.  “It’s available online, so I suppose you can find it yourself.  On the other hand, I doubt you can read archaic Greek.”</p><p>Actually, Stiles can, and whatever Lydia’s gloating over, they’ve got other ways of getting that information.  Erica’s already thinking through which class would be best for stealing Lydia’s phone in when she suddenly realizes Stiles isn’t next to her any more.</p><p>She looks at the empty space, then back up on the bleachers.  Stiles doesn’t look thrilled about it, but he’s facing Lydia.  “And the reason you’re not offering your linguistic abilities to the Hales is…” he says.</p><p>“They already read it,” Lydia says.  “It’s their bestiary, they’ve had it all along and haven’t told you.  Cora let it slip.”</p><p>“Stiles,” Erica hisses.  “Stiles, come on.”</p><p>Lydia lifts one brow.  Stiles twists his head a little towards Erica, then grimaces.  “Wait,” he says.  “Why do you care?”</p><p>To Lydia.  To <i>Lydia</i>.  To some random reigning high school bitch-queen like every other high school, except that she just happens to be dating a werewolf, and so what, they’re gonna share intel now?  When they could just steal it?</p><p>“Mom’s working on something, I told you,” Stiles says wearily when Erica corners him later.  “She said don’t piss off anybody, and just watch the Argents for now, and anyway Scott—”</p><p>“Why are you even still friends with him?” Erica snaps.</p><p>“Well, his mom’s got access to the morgue and we kind of need that, okay?” Stiles snaps back.  He bangs shut his locker door, and then they both wince and stare at the bent metal.  He reaches out and feathers his fingers over one fold in the door, and then sighs.  “Anyway, Scott…he is trying to be a friend.  He told me, if I didn’t want to see it, he’d avoid talking to her around me.  You saw he was trying to keep her away from me back there, don’t you?”</p><p>“Was he?” Erica snorts.</p><p>Stiles looks annoyed.  “Okay, he likes her too and he’s got no game face whatsoever, you know this.  But look, <i>also</i>, I’m not a baby.  I’m not gonna have a breakdown just because Princess Allison’s floating through the halls in my direction so stop trying to babysit me.”</p><p>“I’m not,” Erica says.  “Werewolf, remember?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Yeah, well, werewolf who’s gotta sort out what the hell is invading the town now on top of what the Hales and the Argents are up to, and also, Mom’s working on Talia and we can’t fuck that up,” Stiles mutters.  He stretches and flexes his fingers a few times, then looks at her.  “Talia gave Chris her protection and she’s the reigning alpha around here, so we gotta figure out why before we can make a move.  That’s what Mom’s doing, because we don’t <i>actually</i> want to have to take her out when that’d make <i>Mom</i> reigning alpha, and none of us want this town.  Okay?”</p><p>Not really, Erica wants to say.  Would’ve been nice to know about all the background before they got attacked at school again, she wants to say.  But Stiles is standing there and telling her now, with that tired look on his face, and no matter how he acts, she knows he’s thinking of his dad.  And since he’d never say it, she can’t even call him for guilt-tripping her.  That’s all her.</p><p>“Okay, fine,” Erica says.  She bites her lip, then makes an impatient motion with her hand.  “Well, you gonna just let the rest of them watch Lydia show off like we aren’t completely onto them, or you gonna fix that?”</p><p>Stiles snorts and grabs the locker door with both hands, pushing the wrinkles out of the metal.  “She wants to educate the masses on how JSTOR works instead of me, I’m happy to let her take that one.”</p><p>“Famous last words,” Erica says.  “Believe me, I know that type.  You give an inch, she’s gonna seize all your assets.”</p><p>“Erica, Lydia’s not the FBI, she just cares whether we screw up her and Jackson getting crowned at the end of the month,” Stiles says.  “We’re not going to have to worry about her.”</p><p>Another wave of irritation goes through Erica at how dismissive he sounds, but she just pushes that down.  “Whatever.  Let’s go.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, Stiles and Scott are still friends.  Stiles actually does seem pretty sociable and I have a hard time believing him as a misanthrope, so I don't think he'd just drop things, particularly since Melissa did help him out before he and Claudia moved away.  But Scott's just a friend here, while Erica is his best friend.  And best friends often go through stresses, particularly in the high school time frame, so Stiles and Erica are having a few issues.</p><p>There's a time skip of about eighteen months between the last chapter and this chapter.  I'm less interested in plot development versus character development for this story. If you don’t like that, don’t expect it to change later.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lydia Martin is a nuisance, whatever Erica thinks.  Sure, she’s a more persistent one that Stiles initially thought she’d be, but she’s not anywhere near meriting a place on the asshole list.  For one, she’s not actively trying to get them murdered.</p><p>“Neither am I,” Peter Hale says, as if Stiles has offended him down to the tippy-toes of his nonexistent soul.  “I’m trying to get you <i>out</i> of being murdered.”</p><p>Stiles opens his mouth.  Then closes it, and then looks at the electrified fence around them.  </p><p>“Well, that’s not <i>my</i> fault,” Peter says, glowering over Stiles’ shoulder at a still-groggy Allison.  “I’m not the one who decided the best way to suddenly de-employ a network of rabid fanatic hunters was to email them all a manifesto about how we need to show some pity for those of us who’ve been unfortunate enough to suffer the burden of being a werewolf, after <i>years</i> of indoctrinating them to kill on sight.”</p><p>Allison takes a break out of frantically patting herself down for weapons, which admittedly is what she should be doing, to glare back.  “No, but you did have to stop in the middle of our getaway to deliver a speech about how your family was going to wreak vengeance on them for this down three generations.  Did you think that was going to help?”</p><p>“Kind of got a point there, uncle,” Cora, who’s unhelpfully with them, mutters.</p><p>Honestly, Stiles agrees with her.  But also, he’s not going to spend his night in a goddamn werewolf fighting pit, especially when it’s a good two hours past when he was supposed to be home and his mom is going to be—he doesn’t want to think about his mom’s reaction.  Aside from noting that point two against Lydia being an asshole is when Stiles’ mom calls her up in the middle of the night to demand whether she knows anything about him being missing, she’s smart enough to not assume her ‘no’ is going to be the end of it.</p><p>Granted, then assuming that she and Jackson should go over to Erica’s house and harass her and her mom into waking up is pretty presumptuous, but it wasn’t like the Hales were going to stop Stiles’ mom’s roaring rampage and Scott ended up trying to handle <i>Allison’s</i> father’s roaring rampage, so…somebody needed to do that.  Because Stiles’ mom really doesn’t need to rampage like that.</p><p>“I mean, not that I don’t feel the love involved,” Stiles says, plopping down next to his mother as they pretend for the sake of the EMTs that they’re both incredibly traumatized by the sight of all the blood they just barely finished being responsible for splattering everywhere.  He hands his mom the little cup of barely-lemon-scented tea, then leans into her.  “Obviously what every boy wants when he falls into the hands of an illegal human-trafficking ring is his mom to show up being a Big Damn Hero.”</p><p>“Just not when it also happens to do Talia’s dirty work for her,” his mom says, narrowing her eyes as Talia, not a speck of blood on her, teams up with Erica’s mom to deliver the cover story to the cop who’s just arrived.  Her mouth twists.  Then she shifts her cup to her other hand and folds Stiles under the shock blanket that the EMTs gave her.  “You’re really all right?”</p><p>Stiles blinks, then pushes his legs and arms out in front of him.  “All limbs accounted for, pretty sure my organ count’s the same…”</p><p>His mom never really took much shit from anyone, and after coming back from her disease, she completely stopped.  Sure, when she’s working, she just does it in a very nice way, but there’s a reason why, instead of calling herself in crisis-management, she refers to it as crisis deconstruction.  “I meant mentally,” she says.  “Because you just ran off with Allison and Cora without even a call to Erica, and that’s not like you.  I want to make sure you’re being yourself and it’s not something we need to look into.”</p><p>She also never has wanted to sugar-coat that period of their lives, even though Stiles sometimes wishes she would.  Well, maybe sugar-coat’s the wrong word; she got…really upsetting, but also, he had been old enough even then to understand it was the disease and not her.  And they’ve talked enough afterwards for him to know her actual lived memory of it is spotty, and neither of them enjoy it when he fills in the details for her.  So maybe what he wishes is that she’d stop facing up to it as if the best way to make it up to him is to do that to herself.</p><p>“I know I should’ve waited, or at the very least, should’ve not let Peter drive us,” Stiles says after a long moment.  “I just thought…Allison was gonna go it alone, and even if we’re pretty sure now that her Code isn’t some sort of tactical gambit, that’s also because we now know she’s got all the tactical awareness of a teenager trained on paintball and veiled references to fantastic racism.  And I guess we do have to keep her alive if it’s going to work, and it was supposed to be Erica’s night off.”</p><p>His mom’s mouth twitches.  She ducks her head and sniffs at her tea, then makes a face and passes it back to him.  When he sighs and sips at it, just so the EMTs won’t look suspiciously at them, she tugs him more into her side and then rests her chin on his shoulder.  </p><p>“Granted, I realize I also messed up the strategy, what with forgetting that the Hales aren’t any better,” Stiles adds.</p><p>“They are.  You know they are, and you also know Allison’s just raw.  She’ll catch up, I can see that in her.”  Stiles’ mom pauses, mouth back to twisting as if she’s fighting with herself over something.  Then she leans back and looks him in the eye.  “You can’t keep doing this, Stiles.  It’s not on you to look out for everyone else’s mistakes.  And—” she holds up her finger “—and I’m not saying that to motivate you to get <i>better</i>.  This is not about the mistakes you’ve made, because—”</p><p>“Well, but I did—”</p><p>“Stiles, you’re not even old enough to drink yet.  You…you should be making mistakes.”  His mom stops again, breathing a little hard even though they’ve been sitting on these boxes for long enough Stiles’ thighs are starting to get sore.  Then she ducks her head.  “You should be dating the wrong boy or girl, or going to parties after your curfew, or…you should be making <i>those</i> mistakes.  You’re not—you’re not a superhero, any more than Scott is, and don’t you throw some Golden Age Superman reference at me, kiddo.  You and I both know when it comes to you, we’re talking no earlier than Alan Moore’s run on <i>Swamp Thing</i>.”</p><p>Maybe his mom should be on the asshole list, Stiles thinks, inhaling even though that doesn’t help how deeply her words go into him.  And then he clamps his mouth shut, staring blankly at the pavement, because.  His mom’s not.  He can’t even believe he—he’d even think, even for a second.</p><p>“Ah, shit,” his mom mutters, right before she pulls him in so tight that he has to drop his head to avoid her chin digging a groove across the top of it.  “Don’t do that, Stiles.  That’s not what I meant either.  I just—I don’t know, maybe it was a mistake moving back here.  I thought I could deal with seeing it all again without John but—and Talia’s got me at every turn.  That woman could sniff out a rotten oyster in Pike Place market.”</p><p>“She’s an asshole,” Stiles mutters back.  “Also, no, Mom, it’s…it’s fine.  <i>You’re</i> fine.  And I’m…I’m kind of messing up right now, but I’ll…I’ll try and do something about that.”</p><p>“Well, good, because if Erica gets any more annoyed with you,” his mom starts, and then she cocks her head.  “What <i>is</i> going on there, Stiles?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Stiles says.  Then he sees her face.  “Well, I…honestly don’t know.  She’s touchy these days, and I don’t think it’s all her epilepsy acting up.  Or her meds.  It doesn’t <i>smell</i> like a side-effect.  She’s just…annoyed with me all the time.”</p><p>Stiles’ mom looks like she still thinks there’s more coming, but not necessarily like she thinks he owes it to her.  She even starts to say something, but just then Erica’s mother clears her throat twice with exactly two seconds between, and when they look up, she’s heading over with the detective.  </p><p>“Well, go sit with her, I didn’t like how her face looked when she walked in on the waste-disposal room,” Stiles’ mom says instead, giving Stiles a push.</p><p>That <i>had</i> been pretty horrific, even by the standards of their lives, but when Stiles finds Erica, she’s fallen asleep in the back of one of the ambulances.  He pauses, sniffing to make sure the EMTs didn’t try to dose her with anything, and then he’s getting her legs up onto the bed properly when someone tries to sneak into the driver’s seat.  Which is reason three why Lydia hasn’t dropped into asshole status yet—when she corners them, she doesn’t do it by playing on the exact same approach they literally just spent the entire night fighting their way out of.</p><p>“I see no electrocution or torture here,” Peter points out, his hands still in the air, as Stiles aims Erica’s taser at him with the voltage all the way up.  “I’m only coming to see how the two of you are.”</p><p>“Oh, really?” Stiles says.  “Please forgive me for not believing you <i>right after you lied about the disappearing werewolves for three weeks</i>.”</p><p>Peter grimaces.  For once, he doesn’t seem like he’s setting up for a verbal skirmish.  He just looks…done with this.  “Talia thought if you knew, you’d go after them immediately.  Which, yes, is the proper response to someone coming in and setting up a werewolf-trafficking ring, but she wanted to wait till the ringleader was in town.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know, maybe say that?  This is why we don’t trust any of you,” Stiles points out.</p><p>“Yes, I can see that,” Peter says, his eyes dropping to the taser.</p><p>For some reason it’s shaking in Stiles’ grip.  He tries to steady his hand against his other wrist, but the shake gets worse.  Then he thinks he sees Peter move and he hisses and hits the trigger without thinking.</p><p>The studs fly well wide of Peter, who hadn’t moved an inch and who doesn’t even blink, and embed themselves in one of the front seats.  The lights in the ambulance flicker and Stiles curses and shuts the taser off as quick as he can, before he fries something by accident.  Then glances over as Erica, mumbling to herself, shifts around on the stretcher.  </p><p>“I was only coming to see how you were,” Peter says quietly.  He lowers his hands and starts to get out of the ambulance.  Then he pauses.  “Cora’s as rattled as I’ve ever seen her, and she says you pushed her out of the way before they turned on the cattle prods.”</p><p>“Yeah, well,” Stiles mutters automatically.  Then catches himself tugging at his shirt, even though it’s already covering the spot where the prods had caught him.  Which has healed, for that matter.  “Still.  Seeing as you once tried to do the same thing to <i>me</i>, I’m taking that with a grain of salt.”</p><p>“That was very stupid of me,” Peter says, casual, like it’s nothing to admit.  When Stiles looks up, he’s watching Stiles much more carefully.  “Of course that’s hindsight, but still.  You and your mother are not pawns, we see that now.  We see <i>you</i>.”</p><p>And then Peter gets out of the ambulance, leaving Stiles just standing there with his shaky hands and Erica’s semi-shorted taser.  It’s probably just another mind-game, Stiles tells himself.  Nothing new, he’s used to that, used to <i>Hales</i>, and he…he really needs to go home and crash.</p><p>He goes to the other end of the ambulance and sits down with his legs hanging out, half-listening to Erica’s heartbeat and watching his mom rotate from cop to EMT to Erica’s mom and Talia and back again.  “Okay, at this point, I’m gonna start charging twenty bucks per talk,” Stiles says when Lydia rocks up to him.  “Ten bucks if you’re just gonna bother me without talking.”</p><p>Lydia gives him a look like he’s insane, then tugs at her purse.  “Jackson’s here with his car,” she says.  “Do either of you want a ride?”</p><p>Stiles blinks.  Then again.  “Jackson wants to give us a ride?”</p><p>“No, but he’ll do it, and neither of your parents have working vehicles right now,” Lydia says.  She glances over her shoulder as Peter crosses over to speak with Talia.  “I also assume you’d rather not catch a ride with them.  So that means it’s me or the Argents.”</p><p>“And <i>there’s</i> the blackmail,” Stiles says.</p><p>“It’s not blackmail.  If you want to go home, Jackson will take you home,” Lydia says.</p><p>She and he stare at each other.  She’s so weird, he finds himself thinking.  Attractive, no lie, but weird.  He doesn’t think he hates it, but right now, tired as he is, he can see why the extra effort he has to put into it could make him hate it.  Maybe Erica’s got something there.  “You and him even really dating?” he blurts out.  “I mean, there’s gotta be cheaper ways to keep a chauffeur around.”</p><p>“All right, I take it that’s a no,” Lydia says, and turns around.</p><p>The stretcher suddenly jangles and Stiles whips around, but Erica’s still asleep.  Maybe having a nightmare, she’s moving around and her heartbeat’s up—he puts his hand out and touches her shoulder and draws on her till she settles down.</p><p>“Wait,” he says, and Lydia’s heels stop.  “Look…if he doesn’t say something that makes me punch him, okay.  And—and thanks.  For calling Erica, and thinking about my mom.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t speak for the rest of the company you keep, but I do <i>not</i> support homicide,” Lydia says dryly.  She pauses, then…almost seems sympathetic.  “You actually do seem to have helped keep that down since you’ve moved in.  Wait here, I’ll have him drive around so the Hales don’t notice.”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Stiles says.  No, definitely not an asshole.  Just…odd.  Either way, he’s probably got to keep an eye on her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The villains on TW are pretty terrible and unrelatable (case study: Julia/Jennifer unironically blathering about the "overlooked" because she was taken off-guard despite her privileged place as a druid/Emissary, while she murders her way through a bunch of unsuspecting bystanders, plus all the collateral damage from the doctor shortage).  You can go two ways with that, either replace them with a better villain (which I've done plenty) or just de-emphasize them and explore characterization outside of reacting to the plot (which is not something I've done as much).  I get bored writing the same story structure over and over again, so I'm going with the second one this time.  So note the time-skip tag.</p><p>If you're wondering about Gerard: up to you, but my thought is without Kate and without half of the Alpha Pack around, he ended up showing his true colors a lot earlier, without Scott as the catalyst, and Victoria and he mutually took each other out over Allison.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Erica has better things to do than to argue with Stiles over asshole classification, and anyway, they’re in the home stretch of senior year so fine, if Stiles suddenly decides he wants to be friends with Lydia, she doesn’t care.  </p><p>Okay, she’s lying.  But he doesn’t even seem to notice.  He’s so busy expanding his social network to include what seems like all of the manipulative, backstabbing, oh-yeah-I-<i>know</i>-that-guy-who’s-trying-to-murder-us people in town, maybe Erica just blends into the wallpaper for him these days.</p><p>Look, they still hang out and all, and he still gives her a heads-up when she has a seizure come on during an American History exam, plus stabs Cora with a pencil when that little bitch tries to peek at Erica’s answers.  It’s not like Stiles is no longer friends with her.  And she’s not the kind of selfish asshole who’s going to hold it against him when he spends most of what’s supposed to be a sleep-over for research purposes ranting about how Darwin’s theory of evolution explains why he’s losing his mind over Peter Hale’s suddenly-prominent pecs.  Even when what really bothers her about it is that little, tight, crushed ache she gets in the chest whenever his eyes go distant.</p><p>“Really?” says Allison.  “It doesn’t bother you even a little that this is <i>Stiles</i> saying stuff like that?”</p><p>“He always says stuff like that, it’s just his process,” Erica mutters, and then wonders why she’s even answering.  She and Allison aren’t friends; Allison just has a reliable supply of bullets and what with all the new visits to readjust Erica’s medication, Erica’s mom doesn’t earn <i>that</i> much money.</p><p>Allison seems to think they’re friends now, but then, given her background, Erica can understand if the girl mistakes nonviolence for sisterhood.  “Well, yeah, but usually his rants actually have kind of a weird logic to them.  The theory of evolution’s supposed to be about getting offspring, right?  I’m pretty sure whatever black magic Peter Hale gets up to, he’s not going for that.  And Peter didn’t just grow muscles, even if I agree it’s bizarre how much he’s ending up naked in front of us lately.”</p><p>Then again, Erica doesn’t have to listen to her.  She smiles at Allison, who perks up, and then picks up her ice cream cup and goes to the trash can to toss it and doesn’t come back.</p><p>“Do you honestly think that that’s going to work?” Lydia asks.</p><p>Because Lydia had to follow Erica outside, because the reason why Erica thinks she’s turning into wallpaper for Stiles is they’re still talking but now all these <i>other</i> people are always around too.  And while Erica can see the strategic value of the Argent weapons cache and another lawyer in Jackson’s dad and Lydia’s ask-no-questions dry-cleaner, she just doesn’t see why that means they’ve got to show up for <i>gaming night</i>.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re here for the storytelling and retro charm,” Erica retorts, but she’s turning back to look at the café’s storefront window anyway.</p><p>Stiles is back at the table, laying out a boardgame on it while lecturing a transparently bored Derek and Jackson, who can’t get away because just often enough Stiles will reach for one of the expansion packs they’re holding.  Allison’s sitting up, with Scott spooning her from behind, and they both seem to be asking questions, and also, listening to Stiles’ answers.  It’s sweet.  It really is.  And Stiles…looks like he’s having fun.</p><p>He doesn’t look like that, not as often as people think.  They get sidetracked by the sarcasm and the windmilling arms but that just means he’s focused.  It doesn’t mean he’s enjoying it.  He and his mom, they’ve taken on most of the trouble that’s come up since the four of them all left Beacon Hills, just by virtue of being the ones who are supernaturally strong and fast and fast-healing, and now that they’ve moved back, he…he really takes that seriously.</p><p>“You are, obviously,” Lydia is saying.  </p><p>“Well, don’t tell me you’re here for me,” Erica snorts.  She looks away from Stiles and pretends like she needs to check her phone.  “Also, if this is some idea you have to get in with Stiles, let me tell you, you’re not remotely convincing when you’re trying to act like a goody-goody.  You’d be better off just going back in there and leaning into an Erica-is-a-flake routine.”</p><p>“You know, for a moment there, I thought you might actually be thinking about him and not about your sad little broken heart.  I suppose you at least get kudos for not thinking you can just fix that by upgrading your bra and getting a hot-oil treatment for your hair,” Lydia says.</p><p>“Oh, what, like you?” Erica snaps, and then jerks her head towards the window when Lydia frowns.  She doesn’t even have to look, she just knows Jackson’s eyeballing somebody else, like he does whenever he gets out of Lydia’s sightline.  “Stiles is right, you’d have to spend a lot less on your make-up if you just got your head out of your boobs and realized nobody likes Jackson outside of his parties.  Nobody.  And so nobody likes you either.”</p><p>Then she stomps off towards home.  It’s a long walk, and this is Beacon Hills, and her mom already said she’d be stuck at the office till late, but the café is in the middle of downtown and it’s still pretty light out and normally Beacon Hills supernatural bullshit keeps it at least under plausible deniability.  She needs to take her anger out on something and the shooting range is closed so she figures she’ll walk to the central square and then order a Lyft.  Things should be safe enough for that.</p><p>And they are, and it just happens that Stiles’ mom drives by and sees her, and when she stops to pick Erica up and Erica mutters that Stiles is still running the game, Stiles’ mom doesn’t ask any follow-up questions.  She’s kind of nice that way.  Sure, she has a tendency to race Stiles for the chance to throw herself first into harm’s way, but if it’s not gonna kill them, she doesn’t poke.</p><p>She does ask, once she and Erica arrive at her house, whether Erica’s in the mood to split a pint of ice cream with her and it is <i>blindingly</i> obvious it is pity ice-cream.  But on the other hand, it’s small-batch vanilla bourbon swirl and sometimes pity tastes okay.  </p><p>Well, fine, more than okay.  Anyway, Stiles’ mom does leave Erica to eat it by herself in the kitchen and Erica, like the masochist loner she is and Stiles kind of isn’t these days, is hate-scrolling Scott’s and Allison’s social to track the bits of Stiles peeking out at the edges of the photos when the power suddenly goes out.  She’s got her phone flipped to flashlight mode and her hand on her taser when Stiles’ mom shouts for her to go out the front.</p><p>Erica goes for the gun that Stiles’ mom keeps behind the nice bowls and then goes out the front.  Then comes back around the house, across the backyard, and into the inside-outside room where Stiles’ mom is wrestling with something as big as her.  She puts the flash on her phone, closes her eyes and then snaps a photo.</p><p>The moment it clicks, she opens her eyes and then aims at the dark, misshapen head stooped over Stiles’ mom.  She’s got to drop her phone to make sure the shots are steady, but all of them hit home.</p><p>Problem is, when she picks her phone up again, the damn thing won’t light up.  She presses the power and volume buttons a zillion times, cursing, and when Stiles’ mom lets out a soft groan, she’s trying to get the battery out of the back.</p><p>Erica drops that and goes to Stiles’ mom, who is not exactly dying but who also is way more torn-up than werewolf healing should really allow, and that is not a good sign either.  “Get me to the car,” Stiles’ mom mutters.  “I don’t think that was the only one.”</p><p>“Okay,” Erica says, and gets Stiles’ mom’s arm over her shoulder.</p><p>They get to the car and Erica makes Stiles’ mom as comfortable as she can in the front seat, and she’s peeling out of the driveway when Stiles’ mom hisses.  “No, other way.”</p><p>Erica glances over at her, then at the road.  The way she’s going, they’re heading back into town.  The way Stiles’ mom wants her to go, there’s not really much except the preserve and…“Where’s your phone?” she says.  “I gotta call—”</p><p>“No,” Stiles’ mom says.  Her eyes are nearly shut and she’s breathing hard but careful, something Erica recognizes from personal experience.  “He’s downtown, ‘s better for now.  They said—” she grimaces and twists a little towards Erica “—Talia’s closer, <i>do it</i>.”</p><p>This is not a good idea, Erica thinks, but she knows Stiles’ mom’s growls and even with a bashed-in ribcage, that one is not the one anyone argues with.  So she turns the car around and heads for the Hales’ house.</p><p>“We should still call Stiles,” Erica can’t help saying.</p><p>“When we get there,” Stiles’ mom mutters.  “He’s okay where he is, they won’t go for someone in front of all those people.”</p><p>“Not what I’m worried about,” Erica mutters back.</p><p>Stiles’ mom draws in a sharp breath and Erica gives her a worried look, but she’s just…trying to snicker?  “Yeah, exactly, you don’t call my kid till I know I can sound like he’s not going—going to run right out there and—do something stupid.  You know him, Erica.”</p><p>Yeah, she does.  “Maybe,” Erica’s mouth says.</p><p>Why, she doesn’t know.  It’s totally not relevant to the situation and she’s talking to a badly-injured woman and she’s not gonna pick a fight with Stiles’ mom right now.  She makes a face at herself and twists her hands against the steering wheel, then makes another face at how damp her palms feel.  She needs to just shut up and drive.</p><p>“You okay?” Stiles’ mom asks.</p><p>Erica nods.  As fast as Erica wants to go, the road on this side of the preserve turns into dirt and the brush tends to spill over the sides and at night it’s easy to plow into something and get stuck, which is not what you want to do when somebody might be hunting you.  She hates it but she slows down.</p><p>“You sure?” Stiles’ mom says.  “Because Stiles was saying you don’t log in as much, and he wasn’t sure if it was your medication and you just didn’t want to talk about it—”</p><p>“Well, wouldn’t he know if it was my medication?” Erica snaps.  “Isn’t that why he checks on me?”</p><p>Stiles’ mom is quiet.  So quiet that, despite how tricky the road is, Erica looks over again, only to find the woman looking very intently at her.</p><p>“He wants to know if you’re all right,” Stiles’ mom says.</p><p>“Well, he knows where to find me.  He just saw me a couple hours ago,” Erica says, trying not to be so sharp.  Drive, she tells herself.  Drive and don’t hit a stump.  “He doesn’t have to worry about me, okay?  I mean, sure, I’m plain ol’ human with a side of defective brain, but I think at this point you can tell I get by.”</p><p>“I think at this point, I know my son would run right out there if something happened to you, too,” Stiles’ mom calmly points out.  “I know I would.  You know we both love you, don’t you?”</p><p>For a second, Erica is so angry with her.  So angry, and so—not angry.  And then…and then Erica’s got a half-mile of shitty road to drive, Stiles’ mom to get to safety, and…it doesn’t even matter.  That’s the problem, all these things seething inside of her, they shouldn’t matter.  She’s got family and friends who watch out for her and make sure epilepsy never gets in the way of anything, not even homicide, and that should be enough.  It really should.  So if she’s turning into wallpaper…well, that’s just how life goes.</p><p>“I know,” she says, sincerely, and then a relieved puff escapes her as the Hales’ house pulls into view.</p><p>Hopefully this isn’t going to turn into another asshole circus.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Time skips will be getting closer together from hereon out.</p><p>I like Erica, but also, I like imperfect female characters, and literally every teenager mistakes being an asshole for taking a stand at some point or the other.  And before I get any comments about Stiles' behavior, please remember that these chapters are all character-limited POV and that's a deliberate convention I'm adopting so no, I'm not going to insert out-of-place third-party omniscient POV to explain something that Erica would have no way of knowing.  The point is to independently get her take and Stiles' take on the same issue and then experience the reader's joy of putting a puzzle together (or at least, what I like about reading, which is what I write).</p><p>Stiles' mom and Stiles live out near the edge of town because it's more convenient to wolf out in your backyard than to drive to the preserve and then wolf out, even though this does mean the Hales are their nearest neighbors.  Probably there's also some bravado and paranoia motivating that, because in this universe, the Sheriff was basically the brake on Claudia and Stiles, and they've had to readjust since his death.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles is completely reversing himself and he is unapologetic about it.  When you’re wrong, you’re wrong, and only assholes try to say otherwise, because all they care about is their pride and how impressed other people are with them and not at all about who might get hurt along the way.  Which is why Lydia Martin is an <i>asshole</i>.</p><p>“She obviously wasn’t interested in coming back and we’re not in the age of go-betweens, Stiles.  You could’ve always DMed her yourself,” Lydia says.</p><p>“I’m not mad about that, I’m mad about the fact that you sat there and listened to me wonder what’d happened to her for twenty minutes and didn’t say anything about her being upset,” Stiles snaps.  “I thought it was her new meds.”</p><p>“Again, DM,” Lydia says.  “I know you’re capable of it.”</p><p>Stiles stomps out of there in a bad mood—he’s also annoyed at Allison, though at least he can get why she’d want to downplay her role in Erica leaving—and gets most of the way to Erica’s house when Peter Hale decides to kidnap him.</p><p>He’s not on board with this, and Peter’s not any better at it than he was when Stiles wasn’t old enough to drive.  But Peter’s got a car and Stiles doesn’t, so he takes the car and leaves Peter and goes to Erica’s and then gets attacked.</p><p>“I was <i>trying</i> to tell you,” Peter says, once he’s caught up and admittedly, helped deal with the attack.</p><p>“Well, <i>lead with that</i>,” Stiles snarls.  “What the hell is up with you people anyway?  You’re always hanging around these days and trying to make nice with us and getting the same shirt ripped off you every single time and honestly, if you <i>want</i> an alliance?  How about you just ask?”</p><p>Weirdly, Peter doesn’t even smirk at the shirt reference.  “Erica and your mother went to our house.  She’s hurt,” he says.</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Stiles says, all of the anger blown out of him.  He stumbles back towards Peter’s car, then turns towards the house.  “Oh, wait, I need to get her—she’s gonna need her—”</p><p>Peter looks puzzled, and then his face clears.  He doesn’t look any less serious.  “Your <i>mother</i>, Stiles.  She’s the one who’s hurt.”</p><p>“She…what?” Stiles says, like an idiot.  Because he heard just fine, and his mom—his mom’s a kickass werewolf at this point, and if she’s the one who’s hurt…</p><p>He tosses Peter back the car keys and then goes into the house while Peter’s busy being startled.  Peter gets over that and comes to argue with him, and then they get attacked again, only this time, now that Stiles has gotten some gear out of Erica’s basement, they…end up getting kidnapped.  </p><p>“Well, if you’d just come when you were called, this wouldn’t have been a problem,” Peter grunts.</p><p>Stiles sits down in the middle of the concrete-lined pit that somebody at some point managed to dig, pour, and allow to cure without the Hales who are <i>supposed to rule the preserve</i> knowing.  “Look, the fact that they are exponentially better at kidnapping than you are has nothing to do with the fact that I can’t yell at you, rewire Erica’s mom’s security system, <i>and</i> fight off a dogpile of mercenary lizard-people all at the same time.  Well, except that they have the common denominator of you harshing my groove.”</p><p>Peter continues to yank and push at the thick metal bars covering the pit’s mouth.  They’re just low enough to be within reach, but high enough so that Peter’s pitting his werewolf strength against gravity, trying to make them budge.  “Forgive us for assuming you’d want to know about your mother and your friend.”</p><p>“Oh, bullshit, it just occurred to you that it’d be a good opportunity to try and bring us into the fold for the zillionth time,” Stiles says, digging out his phone.  No reception.  He sighs and puts that away, ignoring the cold little voice in him that keeps chanting how long it’s been since he heard from his mom or Erica.  “I mean, how many times does Mom have to tell you people, we aren’t interested in joining your pack.”</p><p>“Stiles, this might come as a surprise to you, but I have absolutely no desire to have someone with your mother’s public record in our pack.  My family’s lived a very long time in this town without a vehicular homicide charge against any of us, even if all <i>five</i> of them got dismissed,” Peter mutters.  He lets go of the bars, breathing a little hard, and then frowns up at them.  Then, a little more smartly, he goes over to the edge of one and at least starts trying to force where it’s embedded in the concrete, focusing on a fulcrum point.  “Are you just going to sit there?”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know, are you going to just keep trying to burst your shirt-sleeves for me?” Stiles asks.  “Seems like we gotta get through that whenever we meet these days before we can get anywhere useful.”</p><p>Peter glances over, and for a second Stiles thinks he’s amused.  “I don’t think that’s <i>strictly</i> necessary to divert their attention, but if that’ll jumpstart your breakout strategy, I’m more than happy to.”</p><p>Stiles blinks hard.  </p><p>“Oh, you have one, I’ve seen you at work enough times and if you still have your phone after their pat-down, you still have enough to get us out of here,” Peter says, going back to working at the bars.  “Unless you’d rather not see how your mom is doing?”</p><p>“Go to hell,” Stiles says, suddenly remembering why Peter’s got ten distinct spots on the asshole list after ‘three (post-bite).’</p><p>But yeah, he’s got a plan, and tools from Erica’s basement.  For a second there he wants to not implement it just because of Peter, but…that’s stupid, and Stiles thinks the asshole list is good to have around to remind him of how not to act, not so that he can eventually aspire to it.  So fine, he implements the plan and Peter sort of helps, sort of insinuates about everything but helping, and they get out of the pit.</p><p> At that point, he also has a pretty good idea about the lizard-people’s motivations and numbers, and a theory about their weaknesses.  Which he tests, and he’s right about it!  </p><p>For some reason, this gets him an endless bitching session from Peter as the man carries him out of the preserve, because it turns out they’re on the other end from the Hales’ house—still, should’ve spotted the cement mixer—and into what turns out to be Jackson Whittemore’s backyard.  Peter breaks into the guesthouse, which is occupied by Jackson and Lydia.</p><p>“Fully clothed?” Stiles mutters, after he’s been dumped off Peter’s shoulder onto the floor and can completely if shakily appreciate the look of utter terror Peter’s put on Jackson’s face.  “But hey, you do you, not gonna kink-shame.”</p><p>“What’s wrong with him?” Jackson says.  “He sounds more like a psycho than usual.”</p><p>“What, aside from the <i>numerous injuries</i>?” Peter says as he goes into the other room.  “Listen, you spoiled little shit, if he dies in this house, his mother will blame <i>you</i> and we all remember what she did with that steam-roller, do we not?  So do something about that, I need to make some calls.”</p><p>Jackson opens his mouth.</p><p>“Erica’s mother is a better lawyer than your dad,” Lydia says.  And, admittedly, looks so unimpressed with Jackson’s look of puppy rage that Stiles kind of thinks it’s worth the asshole designation.  She keeps it up as she kneels down and starts to gingerly tug at Stiles’ shirt.  “Stop standing there and go get the first-aid kit before <i>I</i> decide to support Peter’s alibi over yours.”</p><p>Jackson sputters, throws up his hands, and leaves.  And then for a while it really hurts, and ugh, why doesn’t being a werewolf fix these things.  Also, shit, Stiles’ mom.</p><p>“Well, if that mattered to you, why didn’t you just come along?  There was absolutely no need to attack them then and there,” Peter, who’s come back at some point, says.</p><p>“…said she was hurt, wasn’t like she was gonna do it,” Stiles mumbles.  Ow.  Bad idea.  “…and if ‘re lying about that, she was gonna and get hurt then, so gotta do it.  So she stays with ‘rica and it’s good.”</p><p>“I think Erica, at least, would disagree with that,” Lydia says.  She sounds tired, and maybe it’s how Stiles is feeling but when he looks at her, her clothes are filthy.  Except Lydia is always spotless, so maybe Stiles is hallucinating.  “She gave me an earful about not keeping you—like I’m a babysitter for either of you.  You really need to do something about that codependency, Stiles.”</p><p>“’not codepend,” Stiles mutters.  “She doesn’t even <i>talk</i> to me.”</p><p>Lydia moves away, saying something nasty about him.  He’s not really sure he cares, to be honest with you, and just takes the opportunity to curl up on his side.  He really hurts.</p><p>“Erica’s fine,” Stiles says, half-remembering.  “Right?”</p><p>“Well, anyone with that kind of volume has intact lungs, at the very least,” Peter says, since for some reason, he’s still there.  There, and sitting by Stiles, and then a weight settles on Stiles’ shoulder and instead of hurting it’s cool and soft and kind of makes Stiles want to roll into the nice dullness spreading out from that spot.  “You and your mother are very hard to understand, Stiles.  You absolutely resist any attempt to turn you into a dead-end, but left to your own devices, you jump at the chance to self-destruct.”</p><p>Stiles doesn’t really follow except that as good as Peter’s draw on his pain is, the guy’s acknowledging he <i>was</i> trying to play Stiles into a trap.  “Well, so lemme alone.”</p><p>“Your mother and your friend would kill me,” Peter says, and then lets out an odd little laugh, almost like he’s admiring.  “I honestly think they would.  And in a way…I do see why they would.  But a little finesse, Stiles.  It goes a long way.”</p><p>“Not gonna for you,” Stiles says stubbornly.</p><p>Peter doesn’t answer.  Although maybe that’s because Stiles is not exactly conscious now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>No, I don't mean <i>kanimas</i>.  I mean Valusian lizard-people like in Robert E. Howard's books (or alternatively, from certain fringe conspiracy areas of the Internet).  Complex social structure, ability to hypnotize you into not noticing they're slowly replacing everyone around you, better villain.</p><p>Jackson is getting short shrift in this story.  He's gotten more airtime and sympathetic treatment in other stories of mine.</p><p>There is another viewpoint of this story, where Peter goes from outraged by the tween werewolf to leisurely plotting revenge to incredulous to just not knowing what to do with this level of spectacularly efficient self-sacrificing destruction.  Oblivious!Stiles is almost as fun as asshole!Derek.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somehow, in some way, Erica is sure that the Hales are earning themselves new asshole spots on the list.  They’re just being so <i>nice</i> and given how long Stiles and his mom are taking to recover from the lizard-people invasion, that makes no sense whatsoever.</p><p>“Well, my heart, Talia’s not a stupid woman and she knows I’m not about to turn a blind eye to random dead bodies like the last district attorney,” Erica’s mom says.  “So maybe they’re just scared.”</p><p>“They are totally not scared.  That’s their whole problem, if it’s not another Hale they don’t believe it exists,” Erica says, and then catches the slight twist of her mom’s mouth.  She bites her lip and slouches back in her chair, which only makes her mom look even more like she’s swallowing a sigh.  “I mean, I’m not saying you aren’t scary, I just…I just don’t buy it.  Which, not to sound like Stiles, but that’s not you, that’s their lack of brains.”</p><p>“You only don’t sound like Stiles because you left out the ‘totally,’” her mom points out, smiling wryly.  She gets up and slings her dish in the sink, then comes back to the table.  For a second it looks as if she’ll walk by but then she pauses and frowns.  Then sticks her fingers in Erica’s hair and starts twiddling it.  “Look, I’m not saying trust them.  But Stiles and Claudia are still recovering, and it’s been quiet for a week now, and I guess I’m saying…does it hurt to let sleeping dogs lie till we can catch our breath?”</p><p>Erica wants to argue, but she can see how tired her mother is, and also she doesn’t really want to argue.  She just seems to have to push against so much—her epilepsy, dumbasses at school, killer dumbasses outside of school—that she gets into the habit.  But yeah, she gets tired too.  It’s not like she <i>doesn’t</i> want it to be quiet.</p><p>“You could do with catching up at school, too,” her mom adds.  She’s frowning at Erica’s split ends, because the lizards kept them so busy Erica had to skip a trim.  “It’s your senior year and you have what, two dances left?  You’re never going to be a senior again.”</p><p>Oh, God.  “Mom,” Erica mutters.</p><p>“I’m just…”  Her mom backs off, then sighs.  “I want you to have some fun in your life, my heart.  You can’t just run around in the preserve all night, especially now that Stiles—”</p><p>“I know, Mom,” Erica says, and then she feels bad, because honestly, her mom’s just being a mom.  And as naggy as Erica finds her at times…this town is <i>not</i> the town for Erica to have a seizure without anyone she knows around.  “Look, Scott promised he’d come and walk me to and from school, and since Talia made Cora join all my extracurriculars to spy on me, you know she’ll be around for after-school and I’ll just stop dodging her, and…I’ll go get that hot-oil treatment if it makes you feel better.”</p><p>“That’s not really what I meant when I said I’d pay for it,” her mom says, but at least she’s smiling again.  She bends down and kisses Erica on the top of her head, then turns to go back to her home office.  “Well, all right, I had a feeling you’d have it covered and I know you’re a good girl under all that punk frizz.  I just thought you didn’t like Scott.”</p><p>Erica doesn’t.  But this is her mom and her mom presses RICO charges against unhinged heavily-armed hunters all day long and goes home to help Erica bandage up her scrapes and then closes her bathroom door and cries at night, so…Erica can suck up dealing with Scott for the fifteen-minute drive to school.  And Allison.  Because Scott-and-Allison.</p><p>What she is not, in any way, shape, or form, going to suck up is Scott reassuring her every hour that her scent’s fine and he doesn’t think she’s going to have a seizure, because <i>what the fuck</i>.  Erica makes it to free period when she prints out some stuff from the first epilepsy support-group website she can find, shoves it at him with a ‘I think you need to read this’ and then jimmies the lock on one of the school storage rooms for some much-needed screaming time.</p><p>Except Lydia.  “This is <i>not</i> my day,” Erica mutters, turning around.</p><p>“What are <i>you</i> doing here?” Lydia demands, and something about the way she says it makes Erica turn back around.</p><p>Lydia twitches, confirming Erica’s suspicious-activity radar, and then she puts her chin up and throws her commercial-ready hair back over her shoulder and Erica doesn’t have to be a werewolf to sense the bitch-face coming on.  So Erica grabs a mop, sticks its raggedly, smelly end towards Lydia, and then slips by the other girl while she’s recoiling.</p><p>Then she blinks.  “There’s nothing here,” she says.</p><p>“Well, what were you expecting?” Lydia snaps.</p><p>“A dead body?” Erica says.</p><p>Lydia exhales, as if she just can’t stand to breathe the same air as somebody as lowly as Erica.  But then she stays instead of leaving stiletto pockmarks on her march out of the closet, and Erica looks over to find her just looking…tired.  Tired and a little slumped, the way Erica’s mom does after a day that was long and hard and ultimately didn’t give her a win.  </p><p>“I wish,” Lydia says, sounding like a person and not a hierarchy.  “At least you’re prepared for that kind of thing around here.”</p><p>Something’s clearly happened, but whatever it is, it hasn’t left any traces that Erica can see, and she does take another look around.  Nothing seems out of place, no drag or scratch marks or oddly-displaced dust.  The ceiling tiles don’t look as if they’ve been touched, and she doesn’t get that prickly clammy feeling that she’s long since learned signals the recent use of magic.  It’s just her and Lydia.</p><p>Who laughs, making Erica look at her again.  “I’ll spare you the trouble of chanting whatever detection spell Stiles has dug up,” Lydia says.  “It wasn’t anything supernatural.  Just—Jackson broke up with me.”</p><p>“Did you really think he was going to MIT with you?” Erica says, blinking.</p><p>For a second Lydia’s face…it somehow gets backlit, like somebody’s stuck one of those medieval torches behind it, and Erica remembers that one, she’s a banshee, and two, she’s survived almost four years of Beacon Hills High School with an intact social standing.  And then the feeling of impending fireball goes away, and Lydia looks almost amused.  “No, but I was supposed to do the breaking up.  And I damn well wasn’t going to be dumped for—”</p><p>“Lacrosse scholarship?” Erica sighs.  Sure, fine, it’s a good cover for why Stiles is way stronger and faster than he looks, but also, boring.</p><p>“<i>Greenberg</i>,” Lydia spits out.</p><p>That…admittedly makes Erica drop her jaw.  “<i>Not</i> Danny?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s actually Danny but Danny is going to get hired out of Stanford’s applied-AI program by Google or Facebook, marry an Ethan lookalike and adopt two kids, because <i>he</i> knows where he’s going with his life,” Lydia says, with enough bitterness that even Erica, who’s listened to more asshole this-is-why-the-world-must-burn rants than she can count, shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.  </p><p>Even Lydia seems to realize that.  She draws herself back, pressing her lips together.  Her hand moves like she’s going to gesture to Erica, except it doesn’t seem like she can make up her mind whether she wants to ask or threaten whatever it is she’s mulling over.  Probably it’s if Erica can keep her mouth shut.</p><p>At any rate, Lydia ends up choosing not to say anything at all, and instead just stalks by Erica and on out of the closet.  Erica stands there, idly twiddling the mop, and then realizes she’s doing that.</p><p>She’s put that away and just come outside when Scott catches up to her.  Erica grimaces and Scott slows down.  Which is probably why Erica lets him get in the first word.</p><p>“I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize how disrespectful I was being,” he says.</p><p>Erica blinks.</p><p>“I, um, I read your printouts,” he tries after a moment’s passed.  He pulls his bag around and then takes out the slightly crumpled papers.  “They were really informative and I’m glad you gave them to me, and I’ll try to be less—less ableist in the future.  I just…Stiles really worries about you, and he said you don’t like using magic to control your, um, your—”</p><p>“You put into magic what you expect to get out of it,” Erica says, before he can make this any more awkward.  The apology’s nice, but now that the first shock’s over, she can see that look in Scott’s eye and can tell this is right on the edge of devolving into yet another mission for the guy.  “I don’t see why anybody’s gotta pay souls or blood or whatever when science has it handled.”</p><p>“Right,” Scott says, accepting that even though he’s seen her have a seizure before.  He pauses, searching for something else to say, and just when she starts to grit her teeth, he takes a stiff step back.  “Well…look, I want to help, so…so you know.  If you want to ask for that.  You don’t have to, of course, I don’t mean that.”</p><p>The thing is, the guy is one hundred percent sincere at all times, whether he’s being a dumbass or recognizing that he’s a dumbass.  It is hard to ignore, and it’s annoying but also it makes Erica feel bad for even trying to ignore it, and she just…they’re in the same school, they run in the same supernatural circles, she’s got other things to worry about.  “Just tell me if a Hale is around, all right?” she finally says.  “They stress me out.”</p><p>“Oh, is that a trigger?” Scott says, his little mental checklist forming right before her in his big eager eyes.</p><p>Well, hell, if Erica’s got to put up with it, she’ll run with it.  “Kind of.  I’m pretty sure they’re still trying to figure out if wolfing me up will make my mom owe them more than it’d piss her off.”</p><p>“That’s really not right,” Scott says, frowning.  “Let me talk to Cora.”</p><p>“Okay!” Erica says, and goes back to class, heart a little lighter.  Maybe her mom’s right, and she can just take a break and take a breath, and things can just get straightened out.  A few of those things involve her and Stiles and she…needs to, she knows that, she just hasn’t had any time or space.  But if all goes to plan, maybe she can finally tackle that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So here Danny and Jackson are true friends but Danny is far too sensible to want Jackson's privilege issues any closer, and Jackson's just now getting his head out of his ass about what he actually wants versus what he uses to fill that black hole inside of him (Halsey's "You Should Be Sad" might be my current Jackson theme).  So he's certainly not going to explore his sexuality with somebody he can't cow (and I leave the identity of Jackson's true crush open to others but consider that <i>Stiles</i> is the really terrifying werewolf in his age group, rather than Derek...).</p><p>Erica's got flexible morals but she and her mom aren't going to look to magic to cure her if to get that power, you have to kill as many people as Julia did.  Still, totally gonna leverage Scott's do-gooder sympathy to make the Hales' lives a living hell.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles only takes three sick days before he goes back to school, but in those three days the asshole circus comes to town, or something like that, because the world that he rejoins makes no sense.</p><p>“You’re being a huge drama queen,” Cora Hale tells him.</p><p>“Case in point, I am asking <i>you</i>, in all sincerity, why you’ve all suddenly decided to devote your stalking energy to Erica,” Stiles says.</p><p>Cora makes a face.  “Blame Scott.”</p><p>“Well, that’s weird, I don’t know why she’d say that,” Scott says when Stiles asks him.  “I wanted them to <i>stop</i> bugging Erica.”</p><p>“Actually, he specifically asked them to stop acting like the best thing for her would be to get her the bite, because that has to be about the ability to make your own choice and guilting her about you and her epilepsy is completely unfair,” Allison breaks in, looking very righteous.</p><p>Which, okay, it’s on Stiles’ side so he’s not going to object, but…it’s still weird.  “I mean, if you’re gonna convince us that you’ve suddenly realized not all werewolves think like indoctrinated cult victims and <i>some</i> of us have a different take on retaining humanity, namely, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy to just assume we’re gonna lose it—”</p><p>“Are you going somewhere with this?” Derek says.</p><p>“Why are you stalking Erica if the idea is to show us that you’ve stopped treating her like the weak link?” Stiles snaps.</p><p>“Because this is Beacon Hills and other werewolves are going to come and check things out, and think biting her’s an option,” Derek says.</p><p>Stiles stares at him.  Derek stares back, scowl unmoved, wearing his leather with the distinct air of someone who believes it’s functionally similar to a turtle shell.</p><p>“That makes <i>no</i> sense whatsoever with your objective,” Stiles says.</p><p>“Well, it was Peter’s idea, so take it up with him,” Derek says.</p><p>Okay, so maybe it’s not an entire circus so much as one asshole ringmaster and an easily-cowed pack.  Which Stiles knows how to deal with.</p><p>“I’m having cocktails with Talia in two hours,” Stiles’ mom points out.</p><p>“Okay, cool, so you can vouch for me when the bloodstained v-neck turns up on their front step,” Stiles says.</p><p>His mom’s mouth twitches like she’s hiding a smile, but at the same time, she’s smelling more than a little exasperated.  She taps at her phone like that might be it, but once he straightens up from closing the dryer, she stretches out an arm and snags him.  “Did you already talk to Erica about this?”</p><p>“…I’m pretty sure that she too doesn’t enjoy having a Hale tail hanging out of her shorts every time she turns around,” Stiles says.</p><p>“Kiddo.”  Stiles’ mom puts her phone on the washing machine and takes him by both shoulders and turns him till he has to face her.  He could avert his eyes and duck his head, but…she’s got this stare, and it’s worse when he knows it’s there than when he’s actually looking at it, even if he forgets that every time and has to will himself into finally meeting her eyes.  “You two have been on the rocks lately.  And don’t talk to me about your amazing coordination on outthinking every single thing that this town can throw at us, because I already know that and that is not what I am talking about and you know it.”</p><p>Well, but logically, if that’s still good then what is there to talk about?  Except obviously there’s something, if his mom is looking at him like that, and Stiles…lets his gaze drop again.  His mom sighs, and he snaps his head up in time to just avoid her pulling him in and hugging him with that soft, wistful look that always makes him think of his dad the day his dad let him start ordering essentials on Amazon Prime.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he mutters, and instead of hugging him, his mom loosens up on her grip and just pats his shoulders instead.  Which is worse than Harry Potter-style truth serum, honestly.  “I mean, we see each other nearly every other day, and we still talk and all but I just…don’t feel like it was when we didn’t live here.  Maybe it’s all the extra stuff—everything gets so complicated in this town.  There’s always somebody around that we have to act in front of, like—”</p><p>“Allison?” Stiles’ mom says.  “Cora?”</p><p>“No,” Stiles says, and then frowns when his mom raises an eyebrow.  “I don’t mean <i>them</i>, I mean, it’s not like we care if either of them see us kicking ass, right?  It’s good for them, meaning, it’s good for Talia and Chris to know.”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s what we meant when we decided we weren’t going to be the ones who started those two fighting again,” Stiles’ mom mutters, though she seems more amused than annoyed.  “Well, Scott?”</p><p>Stiles starts to answer, then catches himself.  Erica <i>is</i> a little weird around Scott.  She doesn’t like Allison either, but she doesn’t really hide that at all.  When Scott’s there, he can tell she’s sometimes biting her tongue and he’s not really sure why, since if it’s about Allison’s father and attached hunter network, well, that should apply to Allison herself.  But…when he thinks about it, he doesn’t think that’s it either.  “Only when he’s there.  When he’s gone, she tells me straight out if she thinks we shouldn’t have him along, and she’s right most of the time.  And I tell her that, so I don’t know why we’d fight about him.  I…don’t know, sometimes I feel like these days she doesn’t want anybody around, Mom.  Not even me.”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s true at all,” his mom says immediately.  Then she pauses, looking Stiles up and down.  Her fingers flex as if she’s going to pull him in again, but she doesn’t, even if that’s clearly a conscious decision and clearly one she’s on the fence about.  “I do think you’re onto something with this being different from where we’ve lived before.  We’ve never had this many people know about us.  Even if we don’t like them, we all keep each other’s secrets, and—I’ll admit Talia makes me second-guess myself.  As manipulative as she can be, I don’t ever think she’d actually reveal we’re werewolves and…it’s tricky, sometimes, keeping in mind that doesn’t mean she’s looking out for the best for us.”</p><p>“Well, that’s because the Hales have self-interest as their gyroscope,” Stiles says.  “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is all coming down to some plot of Peter’s.  He’s been trying every way he can to pry into us and this is just more of the same.”</p><p>Stiles’ mom still looks skeptical.  “Kiddo, much as I’d like to pin everything on them, they’re not <i>that</i> good.  Erica’s never fallen for them before, has she?”</p><p>“No, but…she’s had a lot to do lately.  And her medication’s acting up,” Stiles says.  “Look, anyway, I think somebody needs to tell Peter to back them all off.  At the very least, them following her around can’t be helping.”</p><p>“No vendettas,” Stiles’ mom immediately says.  She pauses again, then rubs the side of his face with her hand, smiling wryly.  “And look, just a suggestion, but I think you two should talk.  <i>Without</i> a paralyzed Hale nearby.”</p><p>Stiles rolls his eyes, but says he’ll see what he can do, which his mom knows means he’ll let a car hit him and end up jailbreaking his way out of an ambulance before he lets the rest of them get caught in his splatter.  So she lets him go, and he finds Peter.</p><p>“Talia and your mother just talked thirty minutes ago,” Peter says, blinking.</p><p>“Well, but we know you and your sister’s interests don’t Venn diagram so much as require complex steady-state modeling so <i>I’m</i> telling you that stalking Erica is not going to win you any brownie points with anyone.  And also?  Next time she tases you?  Not gonna see to your comfort,” Stiles says.</p><p>This is maybe not the direction he should go, given how Peter’s brows immediately arch and he starts to smell interested instead of annoyed.  Sometimes things sound snarkier in Stiles’ head than out loud, and making sure his sarcasm-to-unintentional-innuendo filter is finetuned is one of the many reasons why he and Erica hang out.  Damn it.</p><p>“Anyway, I thought you were smart enough to realize that she doesn’t want to get bitten,” Stiles finishes.</p><p>“Well, I suppose even if I wasn’t, the numerous times she’s stated that would have adequately informed me,” Peter says dryly.</p><p>“And this whole reserving everything in this town for your family, like if it doesn’t have your nibble marks on it, it’s not truly a werewolf existence, it’s elitist in all the same bad ways as the Argent Code is about the right and wrong ways to mediate human-werewolf conflict,” Stiles goes on, doing his best to ignore that creeping prickly feeling whenever Peter gives him a once-over.  Maybe what he’s saying isn’t maximized for memeing, but he’s got a solid point and he’s making it.  “So if you’re trying to—to—not offend us with what you’re doing with Erica, that’s not the way to go about it.”</p><p>“Yes, I can see that,” Peter says, entirely reasonably, and that is a big fat flaming house fire of a warning flag.  “Of course we shouldn’t make decisions for other people about their risk tolerance or contacts with others without their knowledge or consent.”</p><p>Stiles opens his mouth, then closes it.  Then resists the urge to check the time; he has a pretty good internal clock and he already knows he’s way over the five minutes he firmly allotted himself for this interaction.  “Anyway, stop bothering her, and call off your minions too.  If you want to bother someone—”</p><p>“Bother you?” Peter says, a little hint of teeth now showing as he smiles and leans in.</p><p>“What?  No, I don’t want you following me around either,” Stiles snaps.  “Why are you so obsessed with us anyway?  I mean, if it wasn’t already clear, it’s not like that way you’re gonna wipe out the shame of two kids repeatedly taking you out.”</p><p>“Yes, I <i>also</i> realized that,” Peter says, with a little too much amusement.  “Which is why I’ve stopped trying to throw you in harm’s way, though I suppose that may have escaped that overly-developed sense of paranoia of yours, Stiles.”</p><p>“No, I noticed, but I don’t know that it’s much better to suddenly have you horning in all the time on our fights.  It’s not like you’re coordinating with us and if I wanted to watch that much half-naked badly-timed flailing, I’d subscribe to WWE,” Stiles says.</p><p>Peter glances down at himself, which, much to Stiles’ irritation, Stiles can’t help tracking.  “I appear to be fully dressed.”</p><p>“Yeah, for once,” Stiles says, resisting the urge to point out that ‘fully dressed’ is kind of more euphemism than fact with that tight of a sweater weave.  Instead he holds up his hand.  “And before you take this into some bizarre age-gap seduction direction, can I just say, I don’t know where you got your ideas about teenage boys, but I’m not just gonna jump you and betray everybody I know because of your upper-torso musculature?”</p><p>“No, of course not, you’ve proven you’re more than capable of overcoming any initial distraction,” Peter agrees.  “Also you’re clearly more of a thigh man, anyone with any eyes can tell that.”</p><p>Stiles sputters.  His hands try to take over the conversation, but Peter is not Erica, or even Scott, and he just—he needs to exit, now.  Fine, he thinks, Peter can have the goddamn last word, the asshole will just find out how empty that is the next time he rides on up on some mess his <i>family</i> probably planted the seeds for and attempts to look good by digging them out and just caves in the hole instead—</p><p>“What I don’t understand,” Peter says as if Stiles isn’t turning his back on him, and the rare sound of him sounding genuinely confused alone is enough to stop Stiles.  “Is why you two don’t just finalize it.  You have the loyalty and the faith in each other, that’s clear, and honestly, better than my pack at times.  So why wouldn’t you just heal her?”</p><p>Which is just such a typical werewolf asshole thing to say.  For a second there, Stiles had thought Peter was actually going to reveal some sliver of humanity that wasn’t totally devoted to shit-stirring.  “But obviously no,” he says.  </p><p>“He needs to back off,” Erica agrees.  “I’m going over there right after school.”</p><p>“I already told him to,” Stiles says after a second.  Then looks around at the blissfully Hale-free school campus.  “I think he actually listened this time, so—”</p><p>“So what, he thinks you run this pack now?” Erica says.</p><p>Stiles starts to answer that, and then his mom pops into his head.  This is the first time he and Erica have gotten to hang out alone in a while, because he does honestly listen to his mom, because she knows him and knows Erica and loves them both.  “No.  I mean, if you want to go and rip him a new one, okay, we’ll go.  I’m just saying, I did already talk to him, and it looks like he actually was paying attention.”</p><p>Erica looks sharply at him and he can tell she’s fighting back the urge to say something.  Then she turns away.  She starts to get up, then abruptly aborts that and slumps down again, letting out a frustrated exhale.  “Why the hell does everybody think I need to be just, oh, she’s the sick girl, she’s got to deal with her seizures and we’ve got to tiptoe around her and like epilepsy’s any worse than accidentally wolfing out in the middle of a lacrosse game and almost mauling an opposition player in front of everybody.”</p><p>That had been Scott, thanks to a hunter in the stands flashing him with some crazy “moonlight” beam.  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” Stiles finally admits.  “I’m saying, I don’t care if you don’t get bitten, if you don’t want to, then that’s fine.  You know I’m gonna watch out for you either way.”</p><p>“Well, that’s it!” Erica says, bolting up onto her feet.  This time she doesn’t stop, even as she turns and glares at Stiles; the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes doesn’t even begin to soften her anger.  “You just <i>do</i> that, and I thought you were different but you’re kind of like the rest of them these days and I thought I was at least helping you just as much but that’s not true if you keep going off on your werewolf social trips and oh, my God, I don’t know why I had <i>such</i> a crush on you and.  I just.  I gotta go.”</p><p>“I,” Stiles says.  He gets half up and Erica, already mostly down the bleachers, freezes for a second and throws a look back at him, and he’s never…he’s never seen her <i>scared</i> of him before.  Worried, weirded out, angry, all of those, but not—not scared.  He doesn’t scare her.  That’s the best part of her, and.  “Erica.  Erica, wait—”</p><p>“Gotta go,” Erica mutters, and sprints off.</p><p>He could catch her, but…Stiles sits back down and tries to figure out what just happened, and why he suddenly feels like the biggest name on their asshole list.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Even when Peter respects Stiles, I can't see him passing up an opportunity to relish the foot-in-mouth moments.  Or the fluster.  And Stiles can have Peter totally figured out and still fall for the flirting.</p><p>I also just like Stiles studiously tracking everybody down and demanding to know what's up and all of the Hales being like, it is blindingly obvious and it is stupid but we are terrified of Peter.  Who genuinely actually had semi-good intentions here but he also has a very specific worldview that dictates the way in which he tries to solve a problem.</p><p>Speaking of, Stiles also gets into a certain paradigm when he's in problem-solving world, and misses the woods for the trees.  As for why he didn't smell it on Erica, because she's been crushing on him for a very long time, if you were reading carefully, so combine familiarity with the fact that both her disease and the medication she uses to treat it would make her smell atypical to a werewolf.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’re gonna have to junk the list, Erica thinks more than once in the week that follows, and not just because she and Stiles don’t really talk any more.  The whole point of it was to keep track of all the people they <i>didn’t</i> want to end up being like, and yet.</p>
<p>“You’ve been friends way too long,” her mom counsels on the drive back from the hair salon, where having to sit around with a granny shower-cap on and oil dripping down her nape and an inability to DM Stiles the overheard town gossip had finally broken her and she’d ‘fessed up.  “It’s senior year, there’s a lot going on, so I don’t think a few days for you to both cool off is going to make it irreparable.  You probably needed that.”</p>
<p>“Mom, you’re talking like we’re gonna talk again,” Erica says.</p>
<p>Her mom looks over at her and Erica sighs and braces herself for yet another discussion about how her mother’s worried about her, and wants to make sure she’s happy, and thinks it would help if she just relaxed and stopped letting all of the homicidal psychos this town attracts run her schedule.  Which, her mom’s not wrong, but also, they’ve been having this argument for years now.  Her mom just thinks she’s going to break, and from <i>what</i>, whether it’s epilepsy or werewolves or no dating life, isn’t the point so much as she’s just gonna break and that’s inevitable.  Sure, they’ve both gotten better at pretending that’s not really it, but…it is.</p>
<p>“Are you that angry with him?” her mom asks instead, making Erica start.</p>
<p>They stop at a light and Erica looks over, and her mother is watching her.  “I,” Erica says, and then looks away.  “A little.  I mean, no, I’m…you’re probably right, just needed some time.  We’re still going to the match later this week, I’ll see him then.”</p>
<p>“You know, Claudia and I have talked,” her mom says suddenly.  She’s not looking at Erica anymore, and when the light turns green, she doesn’t go till the car behind them gives them a short honk.  Her mouth twists in annoyance and then she sighs and eases off the brake.  “I wanted to dig into it before this, but she talked me out of it.  You two are old enough—you’ve been old enough for a while to have your own lives, and it’s not—it’s not like we can expect you to deal with what you do and still treat you like—”</p>
<p>“Mom, it’s not like we’re breaking up our pack or anything,” Erica says incredulously.  Maybe a little fearfully; when her mom blinks and frowns like she wasn’t expecting that at all, a tightness Erica hadn’t realized was in her chest suddenly loosens.  “Look, it’s not actually that big a deal, Stiles and I just—miscommunicated.  We’ll work it out.  We’re not gonna be like—like the Hales, like we’re gonna bicker us all into a trap.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean that,” Erica’s mom says, uncomfortably enough that Erica thinks she might just drop it.  But then her shoulders move back, the same way they do when she shapes herself up to go at some dumbass hunter who can’t believe that laws, they are a thing, and <i>you</i> go spin a story about werewolves to the judge.  “My heart, I know we and the Stilinskis have been working together a long time, and…in the beginning it was because I was afraid.  Afraid of losing you, and afraid of all the new things out there.  It wasn’t really because I liked Claudia and Stiles.”</p>
<p>Erica looks sharply at her mother, but…her mom’s being calm about all of this.  Turning on her turn signal, checking her side-mirror, it’s not like she’s suddenly freaking out.  She’s thought about this.</p>
<p>“I do like them now.”  Her mom glances over and from the way her lips twitch, she totally knows why Erica’s staring at her.  “It’s not just because of you either.  I like them for them.  Which I think is important, in a town like this…and I guess what I’m trying to say is, you know I’ll always be a little worried about you.  But I hope you know that that’s because I want the best for you, and that’s not…not things like having the perfect hair, or having certain friends.  I just ask about those because I’m not sure what you really want and I’m just…I’m trying to ask the right things.”</p>
<p>“I know, Mom,” Erica says, blinking back tears.  She raises her hand and tries to scrunch them out of her eyes, then ends up having to squeeze her nose instead to keep the snot back.  “Damn it.  I mean—I’m fine, Mom, I really am.”</p>
<p>“Well, all right,” her mom says, with a small smile.  “I just wasn’t sure, what with you agreeing to get your hair done.”</p>
<p>Erica snorts into her hands, because she’d done that mostly because she didn’t need her mom looking all concerned at her on top of everything else, and figured it’d get that off her back.  It just figures that finally spiffing up her hair would set off all sorts of alarms.</p>
<p>But anyway, her and her mom are good now, so the salon visit isn’t completely wasted.  And the uptick in positive attention at school is, Erica’s not gonna lie, kind of fun and kind of funny at the same time.  She doesn’t even really dress differently, but apparently, getting her hair out of her face transforms her from ratty punk who’s probably going to end up on <i>Fatal Attractions</i> to hot on-trend biker chick.</p>
<p>“You’re also wearing lipstick now,” Lydia points out.</p>
<p>“Well, I realized you can claim a lot of stains are just spilled liquid lipstick, and instead of having to carry around a zillion tubes of stain remover, I just need one tube of this,” Erica says, holding up said item.</p>
<p>Lydia looks unimpressed, in the way you’d expect from someone who decided to co-opt the new sensation and is only now realizing Erica is exactly the same weirdo as before.  “If that’s your plan, you would have saved a lot of money if you’d just scavenged a tube from the girls’ locker room trash and filled it with red paint.  Fenty’s pricy for that kind of cover story.”</p>
<p>“Look, if you don’t like it, you can always take your Gucci-snooty ass elsewhere,” Erica says, suddenly annoyed.  The stare factor of having Lydia shun the cool table to sit with her had been interesting, in the sense that watching dim-bulb brains literally blow out is an unmissable sight, but Erica eats lunch to eat lunch.  She’s at this school for two more months, tops, and once she’s gone, she knows she won’t care who outranked who.  “Why are you even hanging around, anyway?  Don’t you have minions to terrorize?”</p>
<p>“No,” Lydia says.  She’s still picking through her fancy-ass chopped salad bubble bowl with a pair of chopsticks, so she’s not possessed.</p>
<p>They eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Erica hears a stifled noise that sounds like her name.  She’s too used to hearing that mangled in all sorts of contexts that usually mean she’s got to immediately assess her current weapons inventory, so she looks up…and instantly regrets it, seeing Allison and Scott.  Allison looks curious mixed with a little hostility, but before she can do more than mutter something with wide eyes, Scott slings an arm around her shoulders and twists her to head the other way.  Of course, he can’t help shooting Erica a sympathetic look over his shoulder and God, okay, Erica gets the point. </p>
<p>It’s not even really that she ever thought a makeover would magically fix her life; there’s a reason why she and Stiles only ever watch high-school romcoms to make scathing deconstructionist hate-meme threads for Reddit.  Watched.  “If you’re looking for Stiles, he’s not here,” she mutters.</p>
<p>“Yes, I realized that when I looked across the room and didn’t see any hideous plaids,” Lydia says dryly.  </p>
<p>Erica looks up and Lydia pokes some frilly green into her mouth, and for a second Erica wonders if she could get away with dumping the bowl on Lydia’s head and calling it a new hair treatment.  “If you’re trying to annoy him, I think he has to see it for that to work.”</p>
<p>Lydia abruptly clicks the chopsticks and stabs them into the bowl.  It’s loud enough that a couple heads turn.  “<i>Why</i> are you talking about Stiles?” she says.  “Honestly, Erica, I knew you two were poster children for functional codependency, but can you actually not talk about anything else?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  Yeah, I can, I just don’t know why I’d want to with you.  You’re a complete bitch and the only reason you ever hang around us is to figure out who’s trying to kill people lately,” Erica snaps.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize having a sense of self-preservation was a crime,” Lydia says.  “Then again, it’s you.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize you don’t know how to handle anyone who won’t just lie down and let you step all over them with your Louboutins,” Erica says, and then gets a little bit of a fun moment when Lydia blinks.  “Yeah, see, I know all of the stupid luxury brands, I just don’t see their point.  Doesn’t matter if it’s Louboutins or Goodwill when it’s going through a zombie eyeball.”</p>
<p>Lydia snorts.  “Actually, it does—the finish might have been ruined beyond saving, but at least I walked out of there on intact heels, while Scott had to carry Allison.”</p>
<p>“…okay, I’ll give you that one,” Erica says.  She should enjoy the way that Lydia looks surprised, but she…she looks down at her food, and not at the people who are still head-swiveling like they’re two zoo exhibits getting it on.  “So if you’re not here for Stiles or—this isn’t some fucked-up idea about making us make up, is it?  Like Scott asked you—”</p>
<p>“Do you think I have <i>ever</i> listened to Scott McCall,” Lydia says flatly.</p>
<p>Which Erica also has to give her.  But this still isn’t fun anymore.  “Then why are you sitting with me?” she asks, more quietly.</p>
<p>“You didn’t say anything about Jackson breaking up with me,” Lydia says, after a long pause.  She picks her chopsticks up again, then narrows her eyes over them at Erica.  “Why?”</p>
<p>Erica blinks.  “Well, why would I?  I don’t care.”</p>
<p>“The entire lacrosse team doesn’t care either, and never mind that I singlehandedly killed half of Jackson’s idiotic training ideas because <i>I</i> actually realize you can’t win the championship if they all have stress fractures,” Lydia says.  She points her chopsticks into the bowl but just rearranges the leaves, moving one to one side and another to the other.  “Yet they still came up with a bros-before-hos song.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know,” Erica says.  “You know Stiles didn’t join in with that, right?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and I also know Scott did his best to talk them into seeing how horribly misogynistic that is and they got him confused for a second by calling him a homophobe and then Stiles unconfused things by dumping all of Jackson’s gear in the middle of the room and setting fire to it so the sprinklers went off.”  Lydia begins to methodically dissect her salad by color, red leaves at the top, dark greens at the bottom, radish slices in the middle and middle-of-the-road greens flicked out onto the lid.  “And I know that that isn’t about me, it’s about him getting fed up with being on a team he doesn’t care about, and the song isn’t really about me, it’s about sucking up to Jackson because the rest of them still think he can dictate their destiny, and if I cared about that I’d be talking to one of them.  I’m not.”</p>
<p>Erica sits back and looks at Lydia.  “So you think I do care?  About you?”</p>
<p>“Oh, God, no,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes.  “I think you mean it when you say you don’t care.  You don’t care about all these ridiculous petty sideshows happening when we are trying to survive to <i>graduation</i>, and so it never even occurred to you to talk about it.  Am I right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, more or less,” Erica admits.  “So what, this means you want to be friends with me?”</p>
<p>“This <i>means</i> right now you are the only person in this school who waited till I brought up Jackson,” Lydia says.  “Which took over ten minutes.”</p>
<p>She says that like she says everything else, in that sharp, certain your-queen-commands-you voice, but her eyes are a little less bitchy.  She knows they are, Erica can tell, and suddenly Erica sees the whole act for what it is: Lydia trying to hold onto what she knows, in the middle of everything breaking up around her, because nobody else is holding onto it for her.  And…Erica gets that.  Gets the whole thing about people not bringing up that one thing and not making it look like they’re <i>trying</i> to not bring it up, too.</p>
<p>“Do you even like that salad?” Erica asks.</p>
<p>Lydia starts a little.  The bitch is about to come out, and then she pushes it back and just frowns at Erica.  “This is the secret-menu bowl.  You have to know someone on the staff to even get on the wait list, and they only make fifteen of them a day.”</p>
<p>Erica looks at her.</p>
<p>“It’s dry,” Lydia admits.</p>
<p>“We have forty minutes left,” Erica says, looking at her phone.  “Let’s get a burger.”</p>
<p>“I don’t eat burgers,” Lydia says.</p>
<p>“I do,” Erica says, and gets up.  Because yeah, she gets it, but also, she still doesn’t like Lydia.</p>
<p>And sure, this is all just a distraction and eventually Erica’s going to have to suck it up and turn around and look at where she and Stiles are, and…deal with that, because one way or the other, Stiles isn’t the type to just fade out.  But right now, just right now…she could use the time and space.  So can Lydia, apparently, since she does get up, sighing, and Erica’s not gonna lie, she’s kind of looking forward to this.   If she’s an asshole, she’s not feeling bad about this little bit of it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There is another version of this story where Erica's mom is the uptight law-and-order worrywart and Claudia's the looser anti-authority cool mom, but really they take turns pulling each other back from the edge whenever their respective children plunge into danger.  I like to think that eventually, they also stop getting so drawn into the Hales' orbit and bring Melissa into their circle.</p>
<p>Erica's Sandy-at-the-end-of-<i>Grease</i> transformation was so stupid.  If a werewolf bite was that effective of a beauty treatment, then there wouldn't be hunters, they'd be hawking that at private clinics all over Hollywood.  So this is me trying to find a better motivation for why Erica might take steps she could have always taken to make herself over.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Well, Erica made it pretty clear that she didn’t want anybody following her around, including Stiles, so Stiles isn’t going to be that kind of asshole.  So he leaves her alone.  It feels…uncomfortable, and makes him jumpy, and he keeps forgetting and almost-DMing Erica because there are so many jokes and other things only she and his mom would ever get and he can’t be bothering his mom all the time, but he does it.  </p>
<p>He <i>is</i> going to figure out what type of asshole he’s been, because this is not long-term sustainable and also, he is not an asshole.  He did something assholish, that’s clear, but he’s never been an asshole and he never will be if he can help it, which, he’s got a working command of the Internet and the Internet, so you’d think he can sort that out pretty quick.</p>
<p>Stiles did not, however, reckon on the asshole gallery.</p>
<p>“If she was a werewolf, she wouldn’t have to worry about adjusting her medication anymore,” Cora Hale says.</p>
<p>“This is <i>exactly</i> the kind of werewolf supremacist attitude that touched her off in the first place, not that anybody asked you,” Stiles snaps.</p>
<p>“Okay, nobody’s saying she has to be a werewolf, but <i>is</i> her medication okay?” Scott asks.  “Because if she’s having issues with her doctor, I can ask Mom to look into—”</p>
<p>“If that was it, it wouldn’t even be an argument because ever since the whole Dread Doctors fiasco, Erica’s mom and my mom and Talia all go over the resume of anybody licensed to write prescriptions so nobody’s got to weaponize a defibrillator,” Stiles says, biting back the urge to growl, since Scott did also bring him wolfsbane-laced coffee.  “Look, the whole point was, it’s not her epilepsy.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, fine, but it does sound like she hates werewolves,” Derek says, with Laura nodding sagely behind him.</p>
<p>“She <i>doesn’t hate werewolves</i>,” Stiles mumbles, head-first in his laptop.  “She just hates you.  And before you even bring up her tasing you, maybe you should stop sneaking up behind her at night in narrow alleys without even texting that you’re on your way?  Okay, are you all trying to drive me homicidally insane just because she’s not around?”</p>
<p>“Actually, Stiles, that’s what we’re concerned about,” says Peter.</p>
<p>Stiles thinks about tasing him.  He doesn’t have to in order to take Peter down; Peter outweighs him but he’s gotten an inch of height on the man and also seen Peter fight enough times to have 3D diagrams of the man’s favorite moves and their weaknesses.  But tasing sometimes can be more satisfying, as psychotic as that makes Stiles feel.  Something about the way their eyes roll up.</p>
<p>Peter, being smarter than his nieces and nephew, senses this and promptly backs up a yard.  He’s still parking himself between Stiles and the door.  </p>
<p>“Let me get this straight,” Stiles mutters, rubbing at his face.  He’s too tired for this, but he promised Erica’s mom no more crime scenes at the library and he meant it; he wants the library to not get kicked out of the interlibrary loan system and they will if they keep returning loans covered in mysterious organic stains.  “You all think that I’m losing my mind, and if I do, I’m gonna kill a bunch of people, and so that’s why you’re hanging around.  But isn’t that what you were hoping would happen?”</p>
<p>“Admittedly, yes, but that was quite a while ago and now we’re all very clear on the level of destruction you can wreak when you’re sane and motivated,” Peter says, very carefully, with both hands visible at all times.  “I will also admit that my family is terrible when it comes to constructive social interactions.”</p>
<p>Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose.  “What gave that away, the fact that they’re the ones who annoyed Erica in the first place?”</p>
<p>“I can tell her that if it’d help,” Peter says.</p>
<p>When Stiles looks up, Peter appears to be serious.  That in and of itself means nothing, since Peter’s very genuinely serious about every scheme that he tries to implement at the cost of others, sometimes including his own pack members.  But this…feels different.  Maybe it’s the way that Peter seems to be waiting for Stiles to react, rather than just assuming he knows how Stiles will.</p>
<p>He’s been weirdly concerned like that ever since the time Stiles took out all the lizard-people and kind of almost took himself out.  This really should put Stiles on high alert, but he just wishes he didn’t have to deal with this too.  “I don’t think it would, honestly,” he says, instead answering the implied question.  “She’s mad at me, not at you.  It was something I did, I just gotta figure out what.”</p>
<p>Stiles grimaces as the words come out, then ducks his head, as if somebody like Peter’s going to not notice.  But again, weirdly, Peter doesn’t press the advantage.  “You are very alarming when someone you care about is in danger,” Peter says.  “No one wanted you to wake up to her injured or dead.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s a nice thought,” Stiles says, and then something else occurs to him.  “Please don’t tell me this means you’re now gonna try and get her into your pack, or—”</p>
<p>“We ruled that out when we realized your body count is even higher if that’s in the mix,” Peter says.  “And her mother is a very good shot, and unlike Chris Argent, can always claim it was self-defense after assault on a government official.”</p>
<p>Stiles sits back in his chair.  “So you all thought about getting her the bite?”</p>
<p>Peter pauses, then moves his shoulders in a little diffident shrug.  “Yes, but as I said—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, decided it was a bad idea.  It’s just good to know you have an actual thought process back there, since sometimes I’ve wondered,” Stiles says.  </p>
<p>They watch each other for a bit.  Maybe Peter’s doing it for tactical advantage, but Stiles actually isn’t.  He’s just got nothing else to say, right now, and he doesn’t have the energy to chase Peter away, and…this would be about when Erica would jump in, and take over, but yeah.</p>
<p>“May I?” Peter eventually says, gesturing to the chair across from Stiles.</p>
<p>What the hell, at least it’ll keep him away, Stiles figures, and nods.  Peter comes over and makes himself comfortable, and takes a couple seconds to riffle through the stacks of printouts Stiles has been arranging and rearranging across the table.  Then he frowns and that’s when it filters into Stiles that maybe he should have taken those away first.</p>
<p>“These are chat printouts,” Peter says, as if he’d been expecting to find rare banned editions of various obscure medieval witchcraft manuals.  “Talking about guild tariff policies?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, the economics of virtual currency can be just as complex as real currency, and arguably more so considering that in the real world, you don’t have to deal with accidental deflation because some moron didn’t back up the server before they decided to start on maintenance and do you think I’m flirty?” Stiles says.</p>
<p>For a moment, Peter appears to genuinely be at a loss for words.  It’s an interesting look on him, very…unfiltered.  “When it’s not just a distraction from whatever weapon of mass destruction you’re ramping up?”</p>
<p>“Um, yeah,” Stiles says, and a tiny voice in his head starts to say that this is a bad idea and Peter is the wrong person to be talking to.  But also, he has to mentally point out to himself, literally nobody else has been able to see it for him and Peter just admitted <i>Stiles</i> scares the shit out of him, so what the hey.  “I mean, do you—and let’s be clear, I am only asking you because you’re the only werewolf in this town besides my mom that I think actually gets even close to getting Erica, but did you ever think Erica and I, um, I mean, look—did I lead her on?”</p>
<p>Peter’s also the only werewolf who’s going to keep a straight face at that question, Stiles has to admit.  Even Stiles’ mom wouldn’t be able to hold it together, and as much as Stiles loves her, he doesn’t think a hug from her is going to solve this one.</p>
<p>“I’ve never gotten the slightest impression that you were romantically interested in her, if that’s what you’re after,” Peter says, watching Stiles.  “I <i>am</i> aware that you’re both highly invested in each other’s lives, and…”</p>
<p>Stiles waits.  Then taps his fingers.  Then shifts around in his hand, and finally reaches over and pulls the printouts away from Peter.  “Look, if you’re gonna sugarcoat or save it for a blackmailing day, don’t.  Unless all that stuff about not wanting to see me on an insanity kick really was—”</p>
<p>“You’re both totemic to each other,” Peter says.  “It reminds me of myself and my sister, honestly.  Sometimes I hate her for it, and I know she has the same moments, but we’ve shaped each other, for better or worse.  But when you’re someone else’s totem, you can’t possibly be an equal partner to them.”</p>
<p>“What?  Wait, I don’t think—this isn’t what I asked,” Stiles says, regretting this entire conversation.  He should’ve known, and kicked Peter out the second the man sidled his way around the book cart, and…he should’ve known.  “I know it’s all just a mindgame to you but—”</p>
<p>“Stiles, I’m not trying to game you, I’m trying to tell you it was very clear she <i>does</i> love you, and it was even more clear she didn’t want you to know,” Peter says.  “But as they say, the truth will out.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, the truth is, we’re not you and your sister, and I think half your problem is hanging around taking out on everybody else your inability to figure out the first step to solving a problem is to face up to it.  If Talia’s cramping your style to the point you can’t <i>not</i> imply the V.C. Andrews incest, then <i>move out</i>.  This town isn’t an attic, there’s an interstate,” Stiles snaps, getting up.  He grabs printouts by the handfuls and stuffs them into his bag, not even trying to straighten them out first.  Then his phone pops out of the sheets and he grabs it before it slides off the table, then pauses.</p>
<p>Then he just shakes his head and opens up a DM to Erica.  He’s let this place get to him, he thinks.  His mom told him to just talk to her, and she was right, as always; it’s not that complicated.  Or it is complicated, but only when you let it, and if Erica has feelings like <i>that</i> for him, then…fine.  He doesn’t, and it’s going to be awkward, but they’ve always been straight with each other and he can do that much.  He knows she can do the same; she’s always been braver, honestly, what with never having being a werewolf to lean on.</p>
<p><i>If you thought I was gonna hate you if I found out about you crushing on me, you’re wrong,</i> he sends her.  He pauses, half-hearing Peter trying to say something to him, and then keeps on typing.  <i>So I don’t feel like that, but you’re still my best friend and can we just—</i></p>
<p>Which is when he and Peter get jumped.  Because <i>Beacon Hills assholes</i>.  Can’t even have an emotional epiphany without them interrupting it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stiles likes to think that he's a loner but there's a reason why people keep popping up and offering uninvited opinions (which, okay, is partly because Peter has a point about what happens when Stiles is upset about something).</p>
<p>Peter is actually trying to help here, but as usual, he filters everything through his unique worldview and this one of those universes where he and Talia have a semi-problematically close relationship (which I've expanded on elsewhere, like <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245265/chapters/35360415">here</a>).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later, when Erica checks her phone and finds that message from Stiles, she feels like an asshole for missing it, even if that was because she was already in the middle of tracking this shitty rogue alpha named Deucalion who thought he was going to crash her and Lydia’s tacos in the park—Lydia and greasy fast food is just the gift that keeps on giving—imply her only purpose is to pass on a message to the Hales, and then just leave like she’s actually going to let that go.</p><p>“He induced a seizure in you,” Lydia says, though she’s still hurrying alongside Erica.  “You don’t think we should get that checked first?”</p><p>“Well, you wanna go ask my doctor about it for me, you can go,” Erica says.  “But if that asshole can do that, then I’m damn well going to take him out before he gets any further, just on general principle.”</p><p>Lydia sucks her breath and Erica twists around her, ready to hop a rail and duck down the street, but the other girl grabs her arm before she can.</p><p>“My car,” she says, and then gives Erica a despairing look.  “Do <i>not</i> tell me you were going to roll up after him in an Uber.  Getting Talia Hale to mindwipe all your drivers is not going to get her pack off your back.”</p><p>“Fine, whatever, just don’t bitch about the bloodstains,” Erica says, going with it.</p><p>She still half-thinks that Lydia’s going to welch out at some point, maybe just shove Erica out the door once they get close enough and then drive off—that’d been Lydia’s M.O. to date, circling the action but keeping her hands clean—but Lydia drives her all the way across town to the library, since Deucalion’s brand of villainy does not involve hiding his trail, and helps her strategize how to evacuate it and even takes Erica’s spare taser.  Erica would ask, except she’s busy charging in through the staff door at the western side.</p><p>They come in the middle of one of those movie scenes where all of the bookcases are falling over, except in their direction.  Erica hisses and jerks to the side, then remembers Lydia and reaches back to grab her by the elbow.  Lydia comes with her, then abruptly stumbles and for a second Erica thinks <i>shit how far up her leg</i>— </p><p>A werewolf pops up and skews the bookcase just far enough out of the way for them to roll clear.  Lydia cannons into Erica, who <i>oofs</i> into the wall, both of them breathing hard, as the werewolf gets knocked off the bookcase by another werewolf, who is suffering a <i>severe</i> case of gargoyle face.  Erica shoulders Lydia out of the way and shoots at said ugly with her taser.</p><p>The werewolf ducks.  Stiles, the werewolf underneath, takes the opportunity to punch him in the face and then scrambles free, going for…Erica sees the dropped syringe and pushes Lydia completely away and kicks it to him.  He grabs it, twists, and jams the needle into ugly asshole’s calf.  Ugly asshole swipes at him, which Stiles blocks with a piece of bookshelf, and then goes stiff.  Then starts to fall over, except at <i>that</i> point, Peter shows up with a longer piece of bookshelf and swings it like a baseball bat at ugly’s head.</p><p>Stiles unwolfs and gets up.  He peers at the motionless body from a safe distance, then sighs.  “Yeah, that’s gonna take a while to get back into intelligible conversation.  What, did you <i>not</i> want to talk to him?”</p><p>“No,” Peter says.  And then looks shocked that they look shocked at this.  “He says <i>exactly</i> the same thing every single time he shows up.  ‘Oh, Talia, what do you mean, you can’t help me kill my betas because they got tired of almost dying in hunter peace talks and threw me out?  But I <i>adore</i> you!  Well, fine, I’ll just kill everyone you love.’”</p><p>“This isn’t something you agree with?” Erica has to ask.</p><p>So does Stiles, at the exact same time.  Peter has a response to this, and he very badly wants to deliver it, but for some reason he decides to restrain himself and just looks back and forth between them like…like an entire wing of the library isn’t literally wrecked and the alpha responsible for it is right there and yet somehow Stiles and Erica are the show here.</p><p>“Oh,” Stiles says, like he only just noticed who exactly walked in on the showdown.</p><p>“Yeah,” Erica says, because the awkward is contagious.</p><p>“Why in God’s name are you two fighting?” Lydia says.  When their heads snap around to look at her, she blinks back as if she’s the one who is justifiably in shock.  “Well, if this is the only time you’ll be in the same room and we know we’re not in immediate danger, I’m going to ask, because living with this is <i>excruciating</i>.”</p><p>“Wait, she came with…are you two hanging out now?” Stiles says, swiveling towards Erica with a quizzical expression.</p><p>Erica shrugs.  She’s not exactly feeling like she should have to defend that, even if she’s feeling defensive.  “She has thoughts on how to build guild alliances, and also, look, if this is just—I said I <i>had</i> a crush on you, not that—”</p><p>“I’m not trying to bubble-wrap you, I know you can handle anything, I mean, you and Mom are literally the only people who’ve routinely kicked my ass since I got bitten,” Stiles says at the same time.  He and Erica pause, and then he squares his shoulders up and keeps going.  “But you’re also my best friend and if I can keep you from getting hurt, I want to, not because I think you’re weak, because I think that just shouldn’t happen, and maybe I overdid it but I just.  Yeah.  Sorry.”</p><p>“I don’t want it to be weird,” Erica blurts out.  Her face starts to flame, but if Stiles can, she…well, she’s not going to back off either.  “I never wanted it to be weird, that’s why I didn’t say anything, because I figured you weren’t—”</p><p>“It’s not because I don’t love you, ‘cause I do.  And I don’t think it has to be weird,” Stiles says.  “I’m okay with it.  So…you had a crush on me.  Okay.  That happened.  I had a deep, overwhelming and ultimately unfortunate three-month love affair with <i>Assassin’s Creed</i>, we all know this.”</p><p>In spite of herself, Erica rolls her eyes.  “Oh, my God, that isn’t even remotely the same, I mean, for a while there I didn’t want the bite because then you weren’t gonna hang with me anymore.”</p><p>“What?” Stiles says, and Erica realizes she said that out loud.</p><p>“Shit,” she says.  She looks away, then back at Stiles and…he still looks confused.  Not angry or pitying, just confused.  Maybe he didn’t hear her right.  “I…yeah.  Look, I have seizures.  Whatever we say or do, I have them, and when we’ve got all these psychos coming after us…it’s a thing, right?”</p><p>“Not really,” Stiles says.</p><p>Erica sighs.  “Look, it is, we have to think about it, even if we make it work.  I know <i>you</i> think about it, and that’s part of why we hang out, so you can make sure I don’t end up in a dumpster somewhere.”</p><p>Stiles screws his face up, but he can’t lie to her and they both know that.  “Okay, yeah, but I feel like that’s just like…like how you let me know if I’m gonna Xanatos Gambit myself into adopting a cat with a serial killer, because I’m so deep in the plans.  You know?  It’s—it’s we’re friends.  Friends do that for each other.  And okay, I’m sorry, I know I’ve been hanging out with other—”</p><p>“Ugh, look, you can know people besides me, I’m not a possessive asshole,” Erica says.  “Well, not usually.  I just—I had a stupid crush.  And besides you not a ton of people like me and I got worried about if you stopped—”</p><p>“But you don’t just <i>stop</i> being my best friend.  You’ve been there.  You saw Ennis bite me, you saw Kali go into my mom’s room, you’ve seen—you’ve seen <i>everything</i>, and nobody else is gonna be that,” Stiles says, wide-eyed, arms starting to swing out from him.  “And okay, the epilepsy’s there, the werewolf stuff is there, we can’t separate it but you’re there too and that’s important to me.  It really is.  I mean, I would be one hundred percent an asshole without you, I’m pretty sure.  But it’s not even about what you do, it’s just—we’re friends.  Right?”</p><p>He’s staring at her with that open, earnest, desperate expression, like the only thing that matters right now is what she says next, and something twists up really tight in Erica’s chest.  She remembers what it felt like, the first time she realized how she felt about him, and it’s a lot like that.</p><p>And…not.  And that’s okay, she realizes.  She breathes out, and she knows that that crush, it’s really passed for good, but…it’s not like it took everything with it.  Which a little part of her had been afraid of, she only now realizes, and maybe that’s why she hadn’t wanted to really touch the crush, thinking if it fell apart, everything would.  But it’s not.</p><p>“Yeah,” she says.  Stiles lets out a whoosh of relief and his eyes bug out a little, like they always do, and she can’t help but crack a grin.  “Yeah, dumbass, we are.  Let’s just work on that and not be assholes, okay?”</p><p>“Oh, no disagreement there.  Happy to save spot three hundred and two for someone else,” Stiles says, grinning back.</p><p>“Well, on that note,” Peter says, and then actually looks surprised when they both shoot him annoyed looks.  “I only was going to remind everyone that there <i>is</i> a live candidate for that honor.”</p><p>They look down at Deucalion.  He’s starting to twitch.  Stiles frowns and glances around, then retrieves something from the floor: the syringe.  He holds it up to check the level.  “Half-dose, oops.  Well, easy fix—”</p><p>“Just a thought,” Peter goes on.  “One small thought…on the bite.”</p><p>“Listen, if I didn’t want me and my mom to owe your sister, why would I want to owe a touchy psycho like him?” Erica says.</p><p>“You don’t <i>owe</i> him if he’s dead,” Peter says.  “Which could be arranged for immediately afterward.”</p><p>Stiles sucks his breath, annoyed, and then catches himself, looking at Erica.  “I <i>don’t want the bite</i>,” Erica says, very slowly, while pointedly rearming her taser.  “My epilepsy, it’s a thing.  It’s also <i>my</i> thing, and you people are constantly making werewolfhood <i>your</i> thing, so I’m good, thanks.”</p><p>“Me too,” Stiles says.</p><p>“Can I also point out that one, I can hear sirens, and two, I don’t think any of us feel like enabling your humiliation fantasies for him?” Lydia says.  </p><p>“Oh, very well,” Peter says, and stoops over.  He picks Deucalion up by the arm and turns him slightly so Stiles can dart forward and inject the rest of the tranquilizer into him, then immediately lets go.  “Then don’t blame me when he shows up and ruins graduation.”</p><p>“Seriously, do we look like you?  We’re just not enabling your vendetta, that’s not the same as letting him <i>go</i>,” Erica says, and then she looks at Stiles.  “Why are you hanging out with this asshole?  Were you that hard-up without me?”</p><p>Stiles laughs.  “Man, I missed you <i>so much</i>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Do you need to go to the ER after a seizure?  It depends.  Is it a good idea to skip that in favor of chasing a rogue alpha?  No, you should still have a proper recovery period, <i>but</i> also, Erica's been in this situation before (and maybe is letting her outrage override her good judgment).</p><p>It is kind of a shame that Peter and Deucalion didn't get to have a narcissism face-off.  Anyway, the show makes it look very much like we're supposed to sympathize with pre-blinding Deucalion, but from the POV of his pack, he naively endangered all of them (and probably got some killed) for a personal crusade.  This isn't to say you should solve all of your leadership disputes with a violent coup, but I'd be questioning his judgment too.</p><p>Lydia would never be caught dead playing an MMORPG, but that doesn't mean she can't critique your raiding strategy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So things work out, pretty much.  Erica is still not a werewolf, still the only person Stiles trusts to tell him when he’s going too far out there trying to match all the assholes.</p><p>“And he is one, however good the sex is,” she tells him two months after they say farewell to Beacon Hills High School.  “Don’t even start, Stiles.  There is no way you’re going to convince me that Peter isn’t three hundred fifty-two when we are <i>literally tracking down body parts at two in the morning</i>.”</p><p>Stiles glances at the backseat, but thankfully, said asshole boyfriend is studiously watching both the tracking software on his phone and the other two people crammed in there.  Braeden is blissfully business-like, and is hands-down the <i>best</i> person ever hired by the Beacon Hills district attorney’s office, but Derek has this habit of annoying Erica into going for the taser when he knows she can do that one-handed, over her shoulder while driving.  “Okay.  Yeah.  But let’s be fair, it’s not like anybody could’ve predicted that the mad marine scientist guy really <i>can</i> make like a starfish and regenerate.”</p><p>“No, but he’s ruined seventy-five percent of the farmer’s market for us,” Erica says.  “I like the garlic scape sausages.  <i>You</i> like the garlic scape sausages.  And now we can’t touch them for the entire rest of the summer.”</p><p>“I had the <i>Sweeney Todd</i> soundtrack stuck in my head thanks to Cora.  She’s been singing through it ever since she got back from her NYU tour,” Peter says apologetically.  “And before you go on, that is an explanation, not an excuse.  But she’s been singing it <i>incessantly</i>.”</p><p>Erica blows her breath out in disgust and glances over.  Stiles shrugs and rubs the side of his head.  Yeah, that was an asshole thing to do, dumping body parts without thinking about the local organic food chain even before they realized this just gives their latest villain an <i>incubation area</i>, and sometimes he wonders what he’s doing with Peter.  Sure, the man is hot, and since he’s settled down to actually try and stay on Stiles’ good side, his pack’s followed his lead and the Hales only drag them into potentially murderous stuff about once a month, so there are group benefits.  But on the other hand…</p><p>Stiles’ phone pings.  He checks it in case it’s his or Erica’s mother—they’re holed up in Erica’s mom’s office with Talia, working out a cover story—but it’s actually Peter with a screenshot of a ticket confirmation for an exclusive SDCC panel that Stiles knows is oversubscribed three times over.  Bribery.</p><p>“He’s buttering you up,” Erica mutters.</p><p>Stiles realizes what his face is doing and attempts to wipe the reluctant grin off it.  “He got you and Lydia VIP passes too.”</p><p>“Passes to w—<i>oh</i>.”  Erica almost misses a turn and when Stiles coughs into his hand, she just swerves the car around without so much of an eye-roll at Derek’s cut-off protests.  “Ooooooooh.  Okay, asshole knows how to do it up, I’ll give him that.  Not even gonna ask about what <i>other</i> crime we gotta cover up now.”</p><p>In the back, Peter’s head snaps up and then he pulls an expression of put-upon innocence in the rearview mirror, which Stiles doesn’t buy, but also, he agrees with Erica.  It probably was someone who had it coming and it’s not like they get paid for rooting out all the random spree supernatural spree killers who come to town, so hey, he’ll take his benefits where he can get them.  “But is she coming?  I thought she got hives just thinking about getting pushed up against by a convention center floor’s worth of sweaty, clammy social rejects.”</p><p>“Well, she’s not doing <i>that</i> part, but she’s coming for the parts where we get fast-track treatment into cushy VIP spaces, you know her,” Erica says.  She slows down as Peter starts to raise his hand, then turns right when he points.  “Also, she got kind of weirdly invested in my cosplay outfit.  Like literally, I had to stick my feet into this quick-dry goo and get a mold made for the boots, and then get this cobbler with a tape swarming over them anyway, like if I fall off my heels you aren’t gonna catch me.  And she keeps talking about wanting to see if the soles wear evenly.”</p><p>“They are kind of high,” Stiles says, having seen said boots.  “I mean, I <i>will</i>, I just can’t guarantee they’re gonna stay in one piece if we have to yank them off you to run.”</p><p>Erica shrugs.  “Then yank, I’ll deal with the Queen Bee afterward.  Probably make her take me out for chimichangas or something drippy like that.”</p><p>“You ever going to admit you’re dating?” Stiles has to ask.  </p><p>Because that is exactly what Erica and Lydia are doing, even if neither of them will speak the word.  Stiles is pretty sure it started out kind of accidental—like him getting frustrated with Peter trying to convince him to wait on going after the lizard-people, second asshole edition, till after Talia could come and anger-sexing him in an unoccupied police car—but Lydia accepted a place at Stanford rather than MIT, when Erica and Stiles are both going to Berkeley.  And Erica occasionally can be seen eating salads, albeit only as side dishes.  They actually work really well together, in Stiles’ opinion. </p><p>“Sure, when you own up to the fact that Jackson <i>totally</i> wishes you’d stick a foot on his neck,” Erica says.</p><p>“Ahem,” Peter says, as if the sudden eye-glow wouldn’t have alerted them.  “I think we have other priorities?”</p><p>Erica stops the car and they unload and gear up for their third farmland stealth operation of the night.  Which actually goes off without a hitch, making them three-for-three on not having to resort to mindwiping measures to cover up their tracks; this is partly because Stiles takes a second to drag Peter behind a haystack and point out Jackson’s brand of whiny asking-for-it is not his preferred flavor of masochism, so Peter stays on task and doesn’t take time out for a lengthy speech, as he is prone to do when feeling injured.</p><p>“You spoil the shit out of him,” Erica tells him later, when they’ve flopped down on the couch to catch a breath.</p><p>Stiles…does not feel like denying it.  He’s been kind of softening up on the Hales and specifically Peter lately; a little part of him keeps worrying about it but…he likes the guy.  Kind of a lot.  “I think I have a weakness for a certain type of asshole.”</p><p>“You <i>think</i>?” Erica says.</p><p>“Okay,” Stiles mutters, as Erica snickers.  “Yeah, well, you and Queen Bee…”</p><p>“I wanna make sure she’s not having a phase,” Erica mutters back after a moment.</p><p>Stiles looks at her.  Erica twitches a little, which is a better sign of her nerves than her smell ever has been, and doesn’t look at him, which is a dead giveaway.  Not really Lydia who might be having the phase here, but…Stiles doesn’t bring it up.  When Erica wants to, she wants to.  She’s got her process.</p><p>“You smell sort of low-blood-sugar,” he says instead.</p><p>“Yeah, I know, I’m gonna get something from the kitchen in a second,” Erica says.  “Just wait.”</p><p>Already halfway pushed up, Stiles stops and looks at her.  She glances over, frowning, and for a second he wonders if he’s doing it again.  They finally figured out her medication issues and she’s been solid for a good month and a half, but he’s got…he’s got habits.  He tries to realize he’s got habits these days, but he has them.</p><p>“You know it’s not like I think werewolves are bad, right?” she says suddenly.  “Why I don’t want it?”</p><p>The bite.  Stiles almost reminds her he doesn’t really care either way, and then has second thoughts about that.  “I like you this way,” he says instead, and then pauses.  “It does change stuff.  I know Mom and me, we’re always talking about how if you think it’s gonna make you less human, it will, and that’s all there is to that.  And I really believe that, but also…it changed things.  Me.  I mean, sure, I was a kid, who knows at that age, but…still.  I don’t think I’d be this person if I wasn’t a werewolf.”</p><p>Erica tilts her head so that they can look at each other, and she studies him for a few seconds.  People think they both just mouth off all the time, and sure, they do that a <i>lot</i>, but Erica in particular thinks things over way more than she gets credit for.  </p><p>“Don’t worry, I still think you’re a dork, whatever you do on a full moon night,” she says.  Then pushes herself up, while he’s snorting, and reaches over to knock her hand against his arm.  She keeps it pressed to his elbow for a moment, then lets it drop back.  “I cannot wait for them to come up with a real epilepsy cure.  But…I want it to be something that, if I take it, I can pick what life I get to have after that.  It’s not that I think werewolves are all inherently dicks—”</p><p>“Miraculously, let’s be honest,” Stiles deadpans.</p><p>“But this is a lifestyle,” she says, making a face at him.  Then she gets serious.  “I know it worked out for you, pretty much, but…I just don’t think it’s me.  I mean, how we are right now?  I’m good.  I’m not just putting up with it, but…this is good for me, right here.  Does that make sense?”</p><p>“Yeah, it does,” Stiles says.  </p><p>Erica smiles at him.  And he still doesn’t feel like they’re ever going to be romantically involved, but…when she smiles that way, no agenda or edges or extra meaning, just smile, he knows why she’s the one other constant in his life besides his mom.  It all just makes sense to him, why they’re friends.</p><p>And then she pokes him.  “Cookies.  Cora had those homemade ones on patrol earlier today, so you <i>know</i> Derek’s got a stash somewhere.”</p><p>“Hell, yeah,” Stiles says, getting up.  “You check the bottom cabinets, I’ll take the top, and if he asks, we point out your mom <i>really</i> likes Braeden and <i>really</i> doesn’t appreciate the level of carnage he brings to police cars.”</p><p>“Oh, my God, make your asshole boyfriend do it,” Erica says.</p><p>So this isn’t the end of the asshole list by any means, but…in a weird way, that’s a good thing.  That means he and Erica and all the people they care about, they’re gonna keep on going.  And the people on their list?  Better take notice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Extra: Stiles Adopts a Cat with a Serial Killer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles and Peter adopt a cat.  On day three, they discover the cat actually is a stray experiment from an underground black-market lab trying to manipulate supernatural genetics, and oh, yeah, the lab would like <i>their</i> genetics while they’re at it.</p><p>Later, after the lab is dealt with, Erica and Lydia show up with a giant magnet from the legit lab where Lydia is interning, and get Flerken to regurgitate the keys to Stiles and Peter’s condo (and well as half of the missing kitchenware).  And then call dibs on the shower.  In <i>Stiles and Peter’s condo</i>.</p><p>“I got you into your love nest with your psycho werewolf boyfriend after we almost blew up downtown to get your mutant kitty and your sperm samples back,” Erica points out.  “You’re gonna ruin my midterms like this, Stiles, I’m definitely getting the shower first.”</p><p>“I ruined <i>my</i> midterms too,” Stiles says, but he recognizes this is a lost cause and sighs and plops back down on the floor by Peter, who’s still exclaiming over all of the misplaced spare ammunition Flerken’s barfed up.  Speaking of, Flerken, who is exactly as happy as you’d think after unloading that much, decides to snuggle into Stiles’ lap.  Stiles…pets her.  “Okay, honestly, this was just about getting back for you paying for the entire condo instead of co-signing a loan like we talked about.”</p><p>“I told you you should’ve just gotten a hamster!” Erica yells, just before Lydia shuts the bedroom door.</p><p>She’s right.  She’s always right, and yet…Flerken bucks off Stiles’ hand and walks over to sniff at the bullet Peter is holding, then bats it out of his hand.  “Why, yes, that one did smell substandard,” Peter says, reaching out to rub her head.  “Also, I knew that, Stiles, and I did deserve it, so it doesn’t really make sense to get rid of her now, does it?  After all the murder we’ve committed?”</p><p>So he says, only half-heartedly putting his usual charm into it because Flerken is purring and headbutting his hand and Peter’s expression is mostly taken up with unguarded wonder at how something actually is showing him genuine affection, exactly like the first three days they’d had her, and…okay, this was a really, really bad Xanatos Gambit misfire.  But Stiles thinks it’s okay, actually.</p><p>“Yeah.  Yeah, we can keep her,” he says.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is commitment, as far as Stiles and Peter go.  They don't just get a pet, they get one with a collateral body count.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>